Kentahteh, A Promise
by Corncakes
Summary: Ken-tah-teh, A Promise is a sequel to my previous Daniel Boone Fan Fiction story entitled, His Songbird. If you read that story, then you will notice that I have taken writer's license in this story to bring a character back. Ken-tah-teh, A Promise is a story of family and kinship and how bloodlines can overlook disagreement and bring together two opposite points of view.
1. Prologue and Chapters 1 to 4

"It is a wise father who knows his own child." William Shakespeare.

Ken-tah-teh, A Promise.

**Prologue**

"Songbird, no," Mingo cried out. The pounding in his chest choked him. "Please don't leave me."

"Mingo," her soft voice haunted him.

"Mingo," she spoke again.

He could feel her hand on his sweat-covered face as he lay in his bed.

"Wake up, Mingo. It is me, Songbird. I am here, beside you."

The Cherokee man was afraid to open his eyes, only to have her dead in his arms, again.

"Mingo," her voice was louder. "Look at me."

Mingo took her hand in his, and kissed it.

"You are all right, Little One?" he asked.

She smiled and nodded.

"And the baby?"

Songbird took his hand and placed it on her belly, where their baby was kicking to get out.

Mingo breathed a deep sigh of relief.

"The same bad dream?" she asked him.

"Yes."

Mingo covered his eyes with his hands, "Are you sure you are all right?"

He needed convincing.

"I'm fine, Mingo, I am right here with you."

"It was so real, Songbird. I thought I had lost you."

"But it was real, Mingo. Remember?" she said.

"I remember now, I remember how I thought you died in my arms, and I had lost you forever. I remember going after those men with Daniel and finding them..."

Songbird put her finger on his lips, then leaned down and kissed him.

"You need to remember the good things," she whispered. "You need to remember how you wrapped me in your arms with the Cherokee blanket of marriage. How our families came together at my Choctaw village for our wedding, and the Boones, and Cincinnatus."

Mingo's face broke into a smile and he sat up. "And we both need to remember today is the day we will take you to the lean-to by the river for the birth of our child."

He thought a moment as he looked at the fire burning in their fire pit. "Are you sure you don't want to stay here in our lodge. One never knows what the weather might be in Kentucky this time of year."

"All Choctaw women have their babies out of doors, my mother, my grandmother. You and I both love the river. That is where I want our baby to be born." Songbird assured him. "And I know if you and Running Deer built the lean-to, it will be warm. But maybe you should rest one more day before we go. You have been working night and day to prepare."

Mingo's hand went once more to her belly. He laughed, "I don't think we have any time to spare. Our son is ready to make his presence known now. Cincinnatus is bringing his wagon so you will not have to walk there."

Songbird placed her hand on his, "Our son may turn out to be a daughter. What will you do if that happens?"

He stood up and helped her stand. "I will cherish our daughter as I do her mother."

"I love you," she said and leaned in close to him.

They stood still, warm in each other's embrace, until the whinny of a team of work horses broke the stillness.

**Chapter 1**

It was early February on the banks of the Kentucky River. A pretty day, one of those welcome warm days that are few and far between. Winter winds and snowflakes could show themselves at anytime, but today, it was sunny and calm, even the chickadees seemed to know something special was happening. They were lined up in a row on the branch of a tall oak tree.

Mingo, Running Deer, Songbird's brother, and Daniel Boone, Mingo's best friend and blood brother stood by that tall oak not far from two women. They were waiting and listening, listening and waiting. It was Mingo and Songbird's first child. The half-English half-Cherokee man and Songbird, his Choctaw wife, married the summer after they met. Love grew and grew between them from the first day they said hello and now they were about to become a family.

"I don't know how you do it, Daniel," Mingo said. He fidgeted with an oak branch in his hands.

"Do what?" Daniel asked, his tall form leaning nonchalantly on the big tree.

"Remain so calm," Mingo answered.

Running Deer, for the last half hour had been cutting up a birch sapling into kindling to add to the fire he had built next to the lean-to where his only sister would give birth to her first baby. Wildflower, their mother, chased the men away when Songbird began to go into labor.

Daniel grinned, "Umm Runnin' Deer, I think you got enough wood there to keep a fire goin' for a week. I'm tellin' you boys, we ain't gonna be here that long." The white man was the oldest of the three and had two children of his own back home in Boonesborough. He turned to the expectant father. At Mingo's feet was a pile of oak branches broken into tiny pieces, a nervous habit Daniel had observed many times before.

"Calm, Mingo?" his voice, composed. "Well I been through this a time or two or three before." He observed Mingo's face covered in sweat and worry. "Besides I heared tell that your Indian womenfolk have their babies on their own all the time."

Mingo rubbed his hands together, "Heh, and did you happen to heared tell what the Indian men folk do while the womenfolk were giving birth?"

Daniel scratched his head until his coonskin cap fell off. He caught it before it reached the ground. "By golly, Mingo, you know I do not recall hearing what the men folk did."

"Hmphh," was the Cherokee man's response and he picked up another oak branch to destroy.

Daniel leaned against the tree and slid down to the ground. Crossing his outstretched legs, he put his hat back on so it slightly covered his eyes. From under the fur, he observed the two Indian men acting out their anxieties and chuckled to himself.

"I'm guessin' since I'm a mite older than the two of you, and already havin' been a father I'm also a mite calmer. Think I'll take me a nap. That little one on the way will let us know when he or she gets here. Relax, boys."

Neither Indian responded to the big man's teasing when suddenly from the banks of the Kentucky came a sound that broke through the roar of the rushing river.

It was a baby crying.

Mingo's dark eyes opened wide and the oak branch he held in his hand fell to the ground. Daniel watched. The Cherokee's feet were not moving. Daniel stood up and put his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"I could be wrong, Mingo, but I think that's a young'un hollerin' for its Pa, and that my friend is you."

Mingo's face broke into a big smile. He raced off to the river. Running Deer started to follow, but Daniel gently put out his hand and stopped him. "Think maybe we ought to give Mingo and Songbird a little time alone?" The Choctaw warrior nodded in agreement as Wildflower approached them. She smiled to let them know all was well down by the river.

"Come and help me with all the things Becky sent for the newborn." Daniel said. "I swear you'd think it was one of her own. She sent baby duds from Mima and Israel, a new quilt just the right size, and lots of old cloths for diapers."

Mingo passed Wildflower on his way to the sound of the crying. Songbird's mother gave him a nod and a pat to his cheek. "They are fine," she whispered, "I will let Songbird tell you if you have a son or daughter."

Mingo put his arm around the older woman, "Thank you."

She nodded, "Go to your family, Mingo."

Songbird lay on the bearskin rug Mingo brought from his lodge. When they knew the time would be soon, he and Running Deer built a small lean-to on the banks of the Kentucky River. Choctaw women preferred to have their babies out of doors. The shelter was just big enough for three maybe four people. Pine boughs overhead would protect the mother and child from sun, wind, or rain. Today only the sun warmed them, there was no rain and a gentle breeze carried the freshness of the Kentucky River to them.

She was covered up with a warm blanket from the general store at Boonesborough, a gift from its owner, Cincinnatus Jones. When Mingo saw her holding their child, he slowly fell to his knees and kissed her. There was a light that radiated from her face. "I love you," he said. "Are you all right?"

Songbird smiled, "I am fine, come and see your son."

Mingo's eyes filled with tears of pride as she uncovered the littlest one for him to see. He was long of body, dark eyes and hair, and strong of voice, all like Mingo. Songbird covered him back up with the rabbit skin blanket her mother had made. Mingo sat down beside them and Songbird handed him his son. The Cherokee man held him gently, but with a father's strength.

"Say hello to your father, Ken-tah-teh," Songbird said and the baby began to cry.

"Sh, sh, sh, my son," Mingo whispered and began to hum low and sweet. The baby seemed to look up at him and quieted down. He and Songbird had chosen the name, Ken-tah-teh, if they had a boy. They loved the big river that provided both the Indian and the white man with food, water, and travel. And it was the name the Cherokee called the land given to them by the Great Spirit-Ken-tah-teh, the Promised Land.

This new baby, this new son of theirs would be a promise of their love and life together, with many more "promises" to follow they hoped. It was the beginning of a family Mingo had always longed for.

Running Deer and Daniel could stand it no longer. The two of them wanted to see the new arrival. They carried wood and kindling to the river near the lean-to so there would be plenty to keep the new family warm. It had been unusually mild, but the temperatures could drop over night. Still Songbird insisted her baby be born out of doors and near the river, she and Mingo loved. The three of them would stay there for a few days to let Songbird rest before going back to Mingo's lodge.

It had been an hour since Mingo went to see his new son. Wildflower came over to the two men anxiously waiting outside.

"I think it is time for you to see the newest member of the Choctaw and Cherokee tribes. Come," she said walking toward the lean-to.

Daniel motioned to Running Deer, "You go on ahead, Running Deer, you're family. I'll wait out here."

"No, no, Daniel," the Choctaw warrior answered. "You are family too. You go now and Mother and I will get the fires going. We are going to stay here tonight and I will see them later. I know you must be getting back to Boonesborough and your own family."

"Thank you, Running Deer, maam," he nodded to Wildflower and walked to the front of the lean-to. He shook the heavy buffalo skin flap that kept the cool air out. His normally strong voice was meek and quiet, "Hello, can I come in?"

"Yes, Daniel, please come in," Songbird's voice answered.

His coon-skinned capped head peeked in around the flap. "I won't stay long cuz Songbird you need your rest, but if I come home without reporting' on the newest Kentuckian, Becky and my young'uns won't let me inside the cabin."

Mingo had been sitting beside Songbird. "Come in, Daniel," he stood and took the sleeping newborn from her. "Come in and see our son." Daniel's face broke into a big smile. Wildflower had not told him or Running Deer. Mingo cradled the baby in his arms and uncovered him for just a minute so his best friend could see. The littlest one moved his arms and legs and began to cry. "Sh, sh, sh," Mingo whispered and covered him back up. The baby quieted down as his father rocked back and forth.

"He's a big, handsome boy, Mingo and strong-voiced like you. What do you call the little feller?"

Mingo and Songbird looked at each other and smiled,

"His name is Ken-tah-teh, Daniel," Mingo answered.

There was a shared look of pride on the faces of the two big men. Both had a deep love for the wilderness of Kentucky and had fought side by side to make it safe for the white man and the Indian. Daniel's hand went to his friend's shoulder, "That's a fine name, Mingo, for a fine boy." The big frontiersman bent down and took Songbird's hand. "You did real good, Songbird, now you get some rest. I 'spect I'll be back with my brood in two or three days to help you move back to your lodge." He turned back as he reached the buffalo skin, "G'night, Ken-tah-teh," he hesitated just for a moment. "Well I best get outside 'fore Running Deer sets the whole forest on fire."

Mingo handed the baby back to his mother and joined Daniel outside. "Ken-tah-teh, that's a proud name, brother," Daniel told him.

They clasped forearms and shook the handshake of blood brothers. "I'll be back in a few days like I said to help you move back home."

"If I know Songbird, she will be ready to move back by tomorrow," Mingo added.

"Oh no," Daniel added, "You best make her stay here and rest up at least three days. I'm tellin' you from experience, Mingo. A woman who just had a baby, they need their rest. Three days and I'll be back, ya hear."

"All right, Daniel, three days," the new father went back into the lean-to and joined his family.

What he didn't know that Daniel did was that some of Mingo's friends from Boonesborough were already at his lodge planning a surprise for the new family's return home.

What was once a single-man's lodge would be transformed in just three days to the lodge of a family? Mingo's bearskin rug would still hold a place of honor there, but he and Songbird would no longer sleep on it, on the floor.

"Little Songbird and that baby don't need to be a sleepin' on no floor," Cincinnatus Cicero Jones, the general store and tavern keeper sputtered.

Between he, and Jericho Jones, no relation, they constructed on one side of the lodge, a fine big bunk for husband and wife and the littlest one to sleep in. It would be up off the floor, stuffed with soft animal furs, covered with deerskins. On the other side, they put in another bunk not quite as big. Both Mingo's Cherokee family and Songbird's Choctaw family supplied the furs along with the proper directions for the building of the bunks.

"A fine lookin' bed if I do say so myself, to begin with anyway," Cincinnatus said. "When that Cherokee decides to have a few more young'uns, well he'll just have to add on more bunks hisself." laughing at his own remark. They put a fire pit on the inside of the lodge, like the one Mingo had built for he and Songbird outside where she cooked and they sat together before retiring for the night.

"Or for 'receiving friends,' "Cincinnatus wrinkled up his nose, "Mingo's fancy talk for where we kin sit and have a cup of tea, or some of my Blue Thunder when we come visitin'"

At each end of the new living space they put in shelves for the storage of more furs, blankets, food, dishes and whatever else Rebecca Boone and a few of the women of Boonesborough thought the new family might need. They went through their own cabins and donated what they could. A well-broke in Dutch oven, two cast iron skillets, one big, one small, and Rebecca's extra soup kettle that she needed only when company was coming. And lots and lots of cloths to be used for diapers.

Outside of the lodge Tupper, Issac Crandall, and Yancy Taylor, all 3 family men and friends of Mingo cleared a patch of land for a big garden. They made a place for a root cellar and supplied it with extra tools from their own collections, a shovel, rake and a hoe, things a single Cherokee warrior wouldn't have need for, but a family man would. The three of them would help Mingo build the root cellar when the time and the weather allowed.

Three days passed and a wagonload of Boones had arrived at the little lean-to by the Kentucky. When Rebecca Boone saw Ken-tah-teh for the first time, it was pure love at first sight. The Boone family was there to help Mingo and his wife and son get moved back to his lodge. Songbird handed the baby to Rebecca and the tears began streaming down the red head's face.

"Oh Songbird, Mingo, he is beautiful, so beautiful," she gazed into the face of the little infant, and then looked at her husband. "Oh Dan, wouldn't it be wonderful to have another baby. Israel is growing up so fast and he needs a little brother."

Daniel looked at Mingo and rolled his eyes, "Now I knew this was goin' to happen. Becky, I think we're doin' just fine with the young'uns we got. 'Sides Ken-tah-teh here can be Is'rul's little brother. Ain't that right, Mingo?"

The Cherokee shook his head, "Oh no Daniel, I am not getting into the middle of this little Boone squabble. You are on your own my friend."

"And besides, Rebecca, when ol' Flanders and Jemima finally get married, then you'll have all the young'uns you want, grand-young'uns." Daniel said convincingly.

"Oh Pa!" Jemima yelped.

But the pretty Mrs. Boone wasn't listening. She was walking and singing to the littlest one like any mother would. Songbird and Mingo smiled as they watched the big man try to talk his way out of the situation.

"Now see what you've done," Daniel said grinning. "I'll tell you one thing, if that baby ever comes up missin' heaven forbid, I can tell you the first place to look and that would be our cabin."

"Oh Dan, what a thing to say," Becky shot back.

"Now you know I was just funnin' Becky,"

Mingo bent down, eye to eye with Israel Boone, Daniel's youngest.

"What do you think of Ken-tah-teh, Israel?"

His young blue eyes lit up as he watched his Ma with the baby.

"I think he's just fine, Mingo. I'm gonna teach him how to fish and hunt and ride. And show him my secret hidin' places and everything."

Mingo stood and winked at Daniel and Rebecca.

"Well I think that's just fine too, Israel," the Cherokee man said as he rubbed the white locks on the little boy's head.

"Well by golly, we better git this family home afore it's dark," Daniel announced. "Come on. Cincinnatus lent us his wagon so y'all wouldn't have to walk. Climb up in there Songbird. Becky, you think you can let go of that young'un long enough to  
get in the wagon with Songbird?"

Rebecca handed Ken-tah-teh to his father, then reached up and kissed the Cherokee on the cheek. "I am so happy for you, Mingo. No one deserves a family more than you do."

The handsome Cherokee man blushed, "Thank you, Rebecca," he answered. She climbed up into the back of the wagon with Jemima and Songbird. Mingo started to hand the baby to his wife, but Songbird shook her head no.

"Let Jemima hold him, why don't you?" Songbird said. Mingo smiled at the handed him to the daughter of his blood brother and handed Ken-tah-teh to her. Jemima's face broke into a wide grin as she carefully held the newborn.

Thank you, Songbird, Mingo," she said. "He's so beautiful."

"He ain't beautiful, Mima," Israel huffed. "He's handsome!" The little man looked at Mingo and Daniel and shook his head. "Women"

The three women and the baby settled into the back of the wagon covered in elk skin blankets while Daniel and Mingo took turns driving. Israel was lodged in between the two men. It wasn't a long trip, but the February air had turned colder. The three men had an elk skin blanket of their own to cover their legs.

When they reached the lodge Mingo remarked how it looked as though there was a fire already burning inside then he noticed the addition to the lodge. He jumped down from the wagon,

"What in the world, Daniel, what have you Boones been up to?" he asked.

The big man jumped down and swung Israel to the ground beside them.  
"Not just us, Mingo," Daniel waved his arm in the air and a group of Boonesborough settlers came from around the back of the lodge. "Surprise," they shouted in a whisper so as not to disturb the littlest one. Surprise was the look on the Cherokee's face. "You got a lot more friends than you think, Mingo."

As Cincinnatus and Jericho, Tupper, Issac, Yancy and their wives swarmed toward them, Daniel and Mingo helped their wives out of the back of the wagon. Jemima was taking her turn at holding Ken-tah-teh. She gave him to Mingo who showed the waiting settlers his son.

"Mighty fine lookin' tyke ya got there, Mingo," Cincinnatus told his friend. "Ya done real good, Songbird. Let's just hope he don't take after his Pa in looks, cuz yur a lot prettier than Mingo, "the older man poked Mingo.

"I cannot believe all that you have done," Songbird told them.

"Come on, inside and see," Jericho motioned them toward the lodge.

Inside a warm fire was burning, a big pot of coffee was brewing and the wives had baked four large custard pies among them. The lodge was just big enough to hold all of them while Mingo laid the baby down on their new big bed. When he uncovered him, he began to move his arms and legs and fuss a little. All the women cooed like mourning doves at the sight of the littlest one.

"Gonna be tall like you, Mingo," Tupper said,

"And loud like you too," Cincinnatus added. Laughter filled the lodge.

"It's been a long time, Mingo, but I think the little feller is tryin' to tell someone he's hungry." Daniel said. "Folks why don't we move this pie and coffee party outside to and let Ken-tah-teh have something to eat and let Songbird get some rest."

The little Choctaw maiden looked up at them. "I don't know how to thank all of you. You have made us feel very special."

The group moved outside where they built a fire and put the coffee on to heat. In a few minutes, Mingo joined them.

"Songbird and Ken-tah-teh are both sound asleep in that fine new bed you built for us," he told them.

"It was very kind of all of you to do this for us. Our decision to live in our own lodge, close enough to both our families, Choctaw and Cherokee, was not an easy one, but one we both agreed on. And now I can see we have a third family we can depend on."

Daniel stepped in.

"Well now bein' an experienced Father here I know how anxious ol' Mingo must be to get in there with his new son and with his wife." The big man put his arm around Rebecca. "So folks, why don't we get on back to the settlement?"

The group packed into the back of Cincinnatus' wagon. Daniel slapped his friend on the back. "Git on in there with your family, Mingo," he looked at the ground and then looked back at his blood brother with the slightest bit of mist in his eyes. "I'm awful glad for you, Mingo," Daniel said.

Mingo smiled, "Thank you, Daniel...for everything. Tell Rebecca and the children to come and visit anytime."

"I'll do just that," Daniel answered, then heard Cincinnatus crack the reins and turned to see the team of horses start towards Boonesborough.

"Hey! Wait for me!" the big man ran and jumped onto the back of the wagon. Israel and Jemima grabbed him so he wouldn't fall out onto the ground. He waved as his children shared their blanket with him.

"See you in a few days and we'll get ready to go get us a good cache of furs." Daniel shouted.

Mingo laughed as he watched the wagon full of friends head back to their homes. It gave him a warm feeling inside. He turned slowly and walked into his lodge, to see his wife and son sleeping peacefully in their bed-and that gave him an even warmer feeling.

**Chapter 2**

Summer had come and gone quickly. Harvest season was over and all of Kentucky, white man and Indian alike prepared for the cold of winter. But this late day in October, it was unusually warm in both temperature and color. Fallen leaves painted the ground like a rich man's carpet.

The only sound in the empty lodge was Ken-tah-teh suckling at his mother's breast. It had been almost nine months since that day in February by the Kentucky River. Mingo and Daniel had been gone a month on a hunting and trapping venture. Their baby boy had grown and was an armful for her. Songbird knew how much Mingo hated to leave them, but he and Daniel would ready their trap lines for the winter while bringing back fresh meat to be dried and salted.

It was a hard day for her husband to go, as she remembered their conversation the morning he was to leave with Daniel.

"I should be making sure we are ready for the winter. There is firewood to be cut, skins to patch the walls of the lodge. Or maybe a log cabin instead of this lodge." Mingo told her.

"Mingo, you and I are of the same spirit. We both love the feel of the earth beneath us when we lie together, when we sleep," she answered. "Ken-tah-teh and I have no need of a cabin. As long as the three of us are together, it is home. Maybe another bear skin for the floor or some new skins for the walls as you say."

She saw the glisten in her husband's eyes as they both looked at their son watching them from the soft animal skin rug on the floor.

"Or maybe many skins so we can make our lodge bigger, then Ken-tah-teh can have a new brother or sister," Mingo smiled.

She leaned in close to him, putting her hands up under his shirt, "And how many moons is it you will be gone with Daniel?" she teased. At that moment, a twig snapped outside.

Mingo rolled his eyes, "Oh Daniel, this once you would have to be on time."

Ken-tah-teh began to stir. "I promise I will bring you bear skins, deer skins, elk skins, even rabbit skins if need be." Mingo said. Enveloped in his arms, he kissed her, and then bent down to his son's outstretched hands. Mingo picked him up and the littlest one went straight for the turkey feathers on his father's head.

"No, no, no, soon enough you will wear warrior feathers. For right now I have need of them," Mingo took his son's hands away from the feathers and they went immediately into his father's mouth. Mingo laughed as he removed the tiny fingers so he could speak. "You will take care of Mama while I am away?" Ken-tah-teh smiled as if he understood and laid his head on Mingo's shoulder. "My big handsome boy, let's go tell Daniel goodbye."

Daniel stood outside leaning on Ticklicker. When Songbird came out first he carefully laid the rifle on the ground safely out of the way. "Mornin' Songbird," the big man said.

"Good morning, Daniel, Mingo will be right out. Would you like some coffee?"  
Mingo came out behind her carrying the baby.

"No, thank you, Songbird. Well by golly, Tah-teh, look at you," Mingo rolled his eyes. Daniel had taken it upon himself to shorten the baby's name.

"Daniel, what do you have against names that contain three syllables?"

"Now, Mingo, what do you mean by that?" Daniel put out his arms to the baby.

Mingo continued.

"You have shortened your own son's name from Israel, to Is'rul, now you insist on doing the same to my son? His name is Ken-tah-teh, not Tah-teh."

"Awful big name for a little boy, Mingo." Daniel answered.

The littlest one began wriggling in his father's arms as soon as he heard Daniel's voice, begging to be taken by the big man.

"Po. Po," Ken-tah-teh said and pointed at Daniel.

Mingo laughed "It would seem, Daniel, that Tah-teh recognizes you."

"As any fine gentleman would," the big man said and took the baby in his arms. Ken-tah-teh immediately grabbed at the coonskin cap Daniel wore.

"No, Tah-teh, Po didn't bring Is'rul's pony today. Mingo, when you gonna get this boy a pony? You know how much he loves horses. I never seen a young'un take to a horse like him. Big or small, it don't matter, as long as he's sittin' on its back."

"Daniel, Ken-tah-teh is only nine months old. Maybe in the spring after we turn in our cache of furs."

Daniel took his hat and put it on the baby's head so that is slid down over his eyes.

"Oh no," Mingo took it off Ken-tah-teh's head. No Choctaw-Cherokee son of mine will be wearing a coonskin cap! Too many times I have been caught in a rainstorm with you. I know what they smell like when they're soaking wet."

"Now hold on there," the big man winked at Songbird. "Tah-teh, you are growin' like a weed and you've got your Mama's good looks."

The pretty Choctaw maiden was readying Mingo's pack. "Thank you, Daniel," her green eyes smiled at him as he handed the baby to her. Mingo put his powder horn and pack over his shoulder.

"Be good for your Mama, Tah-teh," Daniel said as he picked up Ticklicker and Mingo's rifle. He started walking down trail, to let the family say their goodbyes alone. "I'll meet you at the Miller's Spring, Mingo. Don't worry, Songbird, I'll bring him home safe."

The tall Cherokee's embrace easily went around both his wife and the baby she held in her arms. "I never realized how hard it must have been for Daniel to leave on our many journeys until now," Mingo told her, "I hate leaving you alone for so long." He kissed the top of her head. Ken-tah-teh was faster than both of them as this time he was successful in grabbing one of the turkey feathers from Mingo's head. Before he could put it in his mouth, Mingo took it back and tickled the baby's nose with it. The littlest one wrinkled up his face. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay with your mother and father, Songbird?"

Songbird turned her husband around and began pushing him toward the trail. "We will be fine, my brother promised to check on us and he will not be able to do so without my mother accompanying him." Mingo stopped, but she kept pushing. "Rebecca also said she would stop for some tea while you are gone." He tried to plant his feet, but still she kept pushing. Ken-tah-teh giggled at the game they were playing. "And," she said loudly, loud enough it caused Mingo to turn and face her. "I expect like last time that Cincinnatus will decide to fish in the river and Tupper will decide to hunt in the valley and both will decide to stop for a cup of coffee several times while you are gone."

Her tone was that of a lecture, a wifely lecture. Mingo could not fool her, he had asked the two men to keep an eye on them the last time he was gone. "Ummmm," his dimples appeared as he grinned, "You might also get a visit from Menewa as well." Songbird scowled at him. "I am just saying the great Chief of the Cherokee said he wanted to visit his great nephew. You would not want to keep the great Chief of the Cherokee from visiting his great nephew would you?" Mingo was walking blindly backwards until finally with no notice he tripped and fell flat on his behind. Songbird laughed, and then the baby laughed. Mingo stood, took her chin in his hand and kissed her until their son grabbed both their noses.

"Go," she said. "Enjoy your time with Daniel hunting and fishing and readying the traps for winter. We will be fine, surrounded by our friends and family."

"I love you," He said to her. "And you too," gently touching Ken-tah-teh's nose. Mingo knew he had to finally turn his back on them and go-and he did.

That had been almost five weeks ago. Songbird knew what her husband would do. Before coming home to her, smelling of animal skins and five weeks on the trail Mingo would stop at the river and bathe. It was not vanity, but respect for her and his Cherokee upbringing. Ken-tah-teh had grown in those few weeks his father had been gone. He looked more and more like Mingo every day.

"If you eat anymore, Ken-tah-teh, your tummy will burst," she said as she took him away from her. Patting his back, he burped once, then twice. She held him in her arms. "Do you think your father will come home to us today?" The littlest one listened to her every word. "Papa?" she said, then his little face broke into the dimpled smile that he shared with Mingo. Songbird hummed until his eyes slowly closed. She laid him on the bearskin rug on the floor, covering him with his little rabbit skin blanket.

Songbird had a feeling her husband would be home today or tomorrow. He would be exhausted; more tired than hungry, so she took his favorite elk skin blanket outside and beat the dust out of it so it would be clean and fresh for him. Mingo would sleep a day, maybe longer; the good sleep of being home. It had been too long since they had lain side by side as husband and wife.

The fire inside the lodge had gone out while she was feeding Ken-tah-teh. Before she could get it started again, she heard a rich and familiar voice coming closer and closer,

"For many years I was alone,  
traveling 'cross this wild land.  
But all is changed and now,  
I sing, I am a lucky man.

My Songbird and my river boy,  
they wait for me at home.  
Their hugs and kisses comfort me,  
no matter where I roam."

Songbird's heart skipped a beat as she looked out the flap of their lodge. There he stood and she was right, his long dark hair was still wet from bathing in the river. His vest lay on the ground next to his rifle, pack, and weapon belt. She checked the baby who was still asleep then ran to him, his bold arms, her rendezvous. His kiss, his embrace was warmer than any fire, any blanket. She laid her head on his chest; they stood still for just a moment. "I missed you, little one," he whispered, holding her close.

"I missed you," she told him, losing herself in his touch, in his smell, then she looked into his eyes. "Your son has missed you too."

Songbird took Mingo by the hand and led him into their lodge. Ken-tah-teh had kicked off his blanket and lay on the bearskin rug, sleeping soundly. She saw the look of a father's love on her husband's face. "He has grown so much in the time I have been gone. Just look at him." Mingo put his arms around her.

"He is going to be tall like you," she told him. And they watched as their son slept.

"I had a feeling you would come home sooner than you planned. You look tired, are you hungry?" Mingo shook his head no, his eyes never leaving his son.

"He looks so comfortable; I think I will join him." Mingo said. He kissed her and lay down on the rug by the baby. "Come lay with us."

"No," Songbird answered, "You rest with him for now. I know how hard you must have worked to get home early. I am going to catch up on some things I need to do and cook you a hearty stew for when you wake."

Mingo nodded as he lay on his back, then he reached over and touched Ken-tah-teh's tummy. "My big boy," he said, to which the baby opened his eyes and blinked. His lower lip began to quiver until he focused on Mingo's face. "How is my handsome river boy?" he whispered. Ken-tah-teh squealed in delight, rolled over on his stomach and crept over to his father.

Songbird started for the open flap of their lodge, then turned back for one more look at the two men in her life. Stretched out on the soft furry rug, both were bare-chested and the littlest one, bare-bottomed. Ken-tah-teh had climbed up on his father's chest and within minutes, both were sound asleep. The rhythm of Mingo's breathing had lulled the baby back into a slumber.

She bent down, kissed them both and covered them with the freshly cleaned elk skin blanket. How lucky she was as she left them to sleep, thankful her prayers for the safe return of her husband had been answered.

"Sleep well," she whispered.

It was mid morning. Songbird went outside; built up the fire she would cook the stew on and brewed herself a cup of sassafras tea. It was her favorite and Mingo always kept her supplied with the root. Later she would gather some vegetables from her garden and clean the two rabbits Mingo shot on his way home. But for right now the little mother planned to enjoy this quiet time she had found for herself.

Ken-tah-teh was occupied elsewhere, safe and snug in the arms of his father. This was the first time since Mingo left that Songbird could enjoy her entire cup of tea while it was hot. The carrots, potatoes, beans, corn, and okra from her garden would make for a fine rabbit stew. And the first of the acorn squash were ready to be enjoyed. Baked squash with a bit of maple syrup was a favorite of Mingo's. Her surprise would be very much appreciated by him.

By mid-day the vegetables were cleaned and in the pot. Two roasting rabbits sizzled over the fire. Songbird had checked on her men before going to her garden. Both were still asleep. Mingo was turned on his side. He had laid Ken-tah-teh next to him on the bearskin rug, his arm around the littlest one. It made her laugh to see them side by side. Ken-tah-teh was an exact miniature of his father.

Back outside the birds were gathering overhead as they did this time of year. The rich colors of autumn showed on the hills. Songbird's stew was cooking nicely as she sat and finished some of her mending. The afternoon passed quickly as she repaired a hole in Mingo's coat. He would need it this winter, and there were always rabbit skins to be made into diapers for Ken-tah-teh. That reminded the little mother that she had forgotten to put anything on him before he went to sleep. He was sleeping so soundly next to Mingo she hated to wake him. But it had been long enough. She got up to go inside, when she heard the giggling of her baby boy.

Both of them were awake when she entered, Mingo was gently tickling Ken-tah-teh's tummy with one of his braids. He stopped when he saw Songbird and sat up. "Mama," Mingo said to the baby, whose eyes lit up at the word.

She had a rabbit skin in her hand as she started over to them. "Before you pick him up you better…."

But it was too late. Mingo stood and picked up Ken-tah-teh, holding him out in front of him. "Look, Mama, at our big boy," Ken-tah-teh immediately showed his appreciation to his father in a most baby-boy like way. "What.." Mingo stood holding the littlest one who was kicking and laughing. He looked at the moisture running down his own chest. Songbird tried to hide her smile. "Songbird, why does he insist on doing that to me whenever I pick him up?"

She walked over to her husband with a rabbit skin diaper in one hand and another cloth she had dipped in water in the other. She proceeded to wipe off Mingo's chest. Ken-tah-teh put out his arms to his mother. "It is your own fault for tickling him and then picking him up."

"Mama," Ken-tah-teh reached for her.

She took the baby and laid him on the rug.

"Did you have a good sleep, littlest one?" She wiped him off and put a clean rabbit skin on him while he jabbered busily to her. Mingo watched and shook his head.

Songbird picked the baby up and gave him back to his father. "Come, the stew is ready," she told Mingo

The baby went straight for Mingo's braids. The Cherokee man followed his wife outside. "You know, Songbird, I don't do that to you when you tickle me," he said to her. Songbird leered at him until a dimpled, sheepish grin broke onto his face. He knew it was time to change the subject. "Mmmm, Ken-tah-teh, I smell something wonderful, don't you?" The sun was setting and a cool breeze blew by them. He felt the littlest one shiver when the air hit his bare arms and tummy. "Are you cold? Let's go sit by the fire and see what your mother has cooked for her men." Mingo had fashioned himself a chair like he made for Songbird and sat down in it. "Ummmm, Rabbit stew and squash, our favorite." The little copper-skinned baby giggled as his father blew on his bare tummy making a noise like a pig.

Songbird went back into their lodge and came out with the little rabbit skin blanket. She sat down beside them and opened her dress. "He is hungry like you I am sure. Give him to me and you can eat while he does." Mingo handed Ken-tah-teh to her. She wrapped the blanket around him and began to let him nurse. Mingo dished up some stew for himself and sat back in his chair. He watched mother and son together. Mingo had seen Indian women nurse their children many times before and thought nothing of it. Now it was something miraculous and wonderful.

It was his family.

Ken-tah-teh was full and so was his father. "Songbird, how is it that you know my weakness for baked acorn squash with maple syrup?" Mingo asked as he finished his third one. The little mother burped her baby for the second time, and then cradled him in her arms. He had become quite an armful for her. "Here, give him to me while you eat something," Mingo took the bundle of life and sat him on his knee, bouncing him gently. Mingo dipped his finger in the syrup and put some on Ken-tah-teh's tongue. The baby smacked his lips and smiled at his father.

"Papa," as if to ask for more. Mingo gave him a second taste.

"You will be sorry when he is sick on you," Songbird said as she dished herself some stew and sat back down. But the baby just sucked on Mingo's finger hoping for some more of the sweetness. She shook her head at them, "A sweet tooth as Rebecca calls it, just like his father." The Choctaw maiden looked in the Dutch oven seeing there was only one acorn squash left. "How did I know your weakness for acorn squash? Because it was the first thing you made certain we planted in the garden even before the corn."

Ken-tah-teh wiggled his way off his father's lap. He stood on the ground between Mingo's legs holding on carefully. They could tell he would soon be attempting his first steps, but for right now the security of his Papa's legs were enough. The littlest one pointed to the fire. "What, what do you want, Ken-tah-teh?" Mingo looked at Songbird. She broke off a tiny piece of a corncake and gave it to him. The baby put it in his mouth, chewing and bouncing up and down at the same time. Mingo laughed out loud, "Corn cakes, now I know he is my boy."

The autumn Kentucky sun was beginning to set. Layers of gold and orange painted the sky. The three of them stayed out by the fire enjoying their first night together in a long time. Mingo told Songbird that it would be a good trapping season and that he brought back many skins to add to the walls of their lodge.

As they sat watching the daystar fall slowly into night Mingo was finding out just what a handful his son was. The baby bounced and bounced until he got tired and bored of that. Then dropping to all fours he crept all over the camp keeping the new father busy chasing him when he went too far. He brought him back to the fire and in no time at all had to go after the littlest one again. Finally leaning on Mingo's knee the bouncing began to wane and he laid his head against his father's stomach. "I think our little man has worn himself out and me at the same time. How do you keep up with him, Songbird?" he asked his wife, who had already taken care of the leftover stew and corncakes.

"That is what a mother does," she said and walked over and kissed the top of her husband's head. It would be the only time she could do so, while he was sitting down. She looked at Ken-tah-teh whose eyes were slowly closing.

"I think he is ready for bed," Mingo said. "How about you, Mama?"

Songbird smiled, got down on her knees in front of her husband and put her arms on his legs looking up into his eyes. "It is so good to have you home, my Cherokee warrior," she said, as she rubbed the top of Ken-tah-teh's head, "We missed you, Papa. It will be a good sleep this night in our lodge."

Mingo nodded, the lump in his throat would not allow him to speak. He picked up Ken-tah-teh, who opened his eyes for only a moment, then put his arms around his father's neck and laid his head on his shoulder, sound asleep. Husband and wife stood up together and walked to their lodge.

The sun had long since dropped out of sight and the only sign of light were the burning embers left in their fire pit. It would smolder all night, soon enough to be lit again for morning tea. And like the fire, the warmth and comfort of a night together filled the minds of the married couple.

**Chapter 3**

November and December passed quickly by. The winter had been a mild one so far and the trapping bountiful. Daniel and Mingo's cache of furs was growing. So much so that their hiding place was filling up already. Both men carried as many furs as they could on their backs home to Boonesborough each trip they made. The bulk of their cache they would bring home in canoes after the spring thaw. The river would be passable then and allow for their last big take of the trapping season.

Their hiding place they found by accident. On their first scouting expedition of the trapping season the thunder of a ruffed grouse's wings startled them both. Losing their footing on some wet leaves, they rolled twenty feet down an embankment. Both of their long bodies stopping suddenly at the bottom with a thud. Mingo and Daniel found themselves facing the entrance to a cave. Neither of them had ever seen it before.

Pointing to a pile of boulders near the entrance, "Probably the rock slide cleared away the entrance," Daniel said.

"Providence, I tell you Daniel, sheer providence," Mingo said as they inspected the inside. It was big and dry, just what they needed to hide their cache of furs until the spring thaw. And it would provide a warm and dry night's sleep before heading home.

"Yeah," Daniel agreed, as he ducked his head and stepped back out into the daylight. Mingo followed, doing the same. Daniel looked up the hill and rubbed his backside. "Providence or clumsiness, whichever, this is a mighty fine place you stumbled on to Mingo."

"Me!" the Cherokee man retorted. "I distinctly remember hearing you yell first, Daniel."

It would be a friendly argument that would keep them going for many trapping seasons to come.

A week had passed since all had been together at the Boone's cabin for Christmas dinner. Cinncinatus and Jericho, Mingo and his family, accepted Daniel and Rebecca's invitation of good will and friendship. Even though Mingo and Songbird did not celebrate the white man's holiday, Keepin' Christmas with the Boones had become a tradition for the Cherokee man.

A late December snowstorm was swirling outside, ready to announce the beginning of a new year. 1776 had decided to come in with a bang. Inside the general store and tavern in Boonesborough, it was just Cinncinatus and Jericho at the bar. Cinncinatus behind and Jericho in front. In the back corner table, Yancy Taylor and a group of men were having a drink together.

The door to the tavern opened slow and easy, a sure sign it was a regular customer who was about to enter. It generally took only one tongue-lashing from the bearded proprietor to learn the proper way to open the door in the middle of winter.

For some like young Jericho Jones it took more.

'"How many times do I have to tell you! You come bustin' in here like a herd of buffalo, door wide open and wind and snow right behind ya. Next thing I know the fire goes out and the merchandise on the shelves goes flyin' one more time, Jericho Jones, and you'll be keepin' me in firewood for the next three winters and payin' for the damaged goods. You hear me?" Cincinnatus clamored.

"Yes sir," Jericho answered earnestly until the next time when he opened the door and the fire went out and the merchandise went flyin'.

This time the door opened just wide enough to let a hulking snow-covered figure inside. The familiar leader of Boonesborough stomped his feet and shook the flakes of snow off his coonskin cap. His rifle almost leaned itself to its regular place by the door.

Daniel Boone walked his long legs over to the fireplace, turned and faced his friends.

"Wooeeee it's cold out there. Cincinnatus, how 'bout somethin' to warm up my insides?" He waved to Yancy in the back and joined Jericho at the bar.

"Comin' right up, Dan'l," the bearded tavern keeper answered. "Now see Jericho, that is how you open and close a door," and proceeded to draw two rums from the barrel, one for Daniel and one for himself. Daniel motioned to Cincinnatus to pour one for Jericho too. He slapped his young friend on the back.

"What's a matter, Jericho, Cincinnatus got it in for you again?"

The young man had his head in his hands, elbows leaning on the bar.

"Aww Dan'l, you know me and that door. I come rushin' in here with some news, door open wide and sure enough out goes the fire and goods go flyin' off the shelves. Now he's holdin' back what little pay I git for helpin' around here. He shook his head. "I was hopin' to pay Mingo back what he lent me the last time we was in Salem."

Cincinnatus set the two rums down in front of Jericho and Daniel and went back for his own.

"Well you know Mingo ain't in no hurry for you to pay him back. He knows you will when you get it." Daniel told him. Both men took a swallow of their drinks.

"I know, Dan'l, but with him havin' a family now, I thought he might be needin' it." Jericho answered.

"Well I wouldn't worry about it, Jericho. Just be a little more careful with the door," the big man laughed.

Yancy and the men he was sitting with started pounding the table and laughing.  
Daniel turned from Jericho to see what the ruckus was.

"Who are the men Yancy's sittin' with, Cincinnatus?" he asked.

"Oh Yancy's been doin' some scoutin' for the Continental Army to make some extra money. Those are some land surveyors he's been workin' with. The army is looking to build a new road 'tween here and Salem. They been stayin' here while they're surveyin'"

The big frontiersman turned back to the bar and took a big swig of his rum.

"Mighty good, mighty good," he added.

"Say speakin' of Mingo, where is he, Dan'l? Cincinnatus asked him.

"Now just where do you think he is? We come back yesterday and dropped off our first cache of furs here and he high-tailed it home to Songbird and the little feller."

Cincinnatus cackled as he wiped off the rum from his beard, "Who would've ever thought it? Mingo, a family man, but it sure do suit him, don't it?"

Both Jericho and Daniel nodded in agreement.

"It surely does. Why it's all I can do to drag him away to tend to our traps." Daniel's voice lingered off to a whisper. And a big grin erupted on his face.

"You're up to somethin', Dan'l Boone, with that curly-q of a smile on your face," the tavern keeper said.

Daniel slapped the bar, "Got me an idee," He grabbed the scarf Becky made him for Christmas and wrapped it around his neck. "Yes sir got me an idee, that's gonna solve your money problems, Jericho and make Mingo real happy family man." His green eyes were sparkling.

"Well what in tarnation is it, Dan'l?" Cincinnatus screeched.  
"Yeah," Jericho said, "I'd like to know what's gonna solve my money problems."

Daniel put his arm around the young man's shoulders, "How would you like to finish out the trapping season with me?"

"What do ya mean, Dan'l, finish out?" Jericho asked.

"I mean take Mingo's place, work his half of the trapline with me. That way you could make up the debt you owe him and he can stay home with Songbird and little"Tah-teh" there. What do ya think, Jericho?"

Jericho looked at Cincinnatus, his present employer. "I don't know, Dan'l, I ahhhh," he stammered.

"Aww Natus you'd let ol' Jericho here go with me wouldn't ya. Fer Mingo," his eyes got a sad look in them, "Fer Songbird?" he continued, "Fer little 'Tah-teh'?"

Cincinnatus had a soft spot in his heart for Songbird and now their little boy.

"Hmmph, be good to get you outa my hair," he said looking at Jericho.

Both Daniel and Jericho looked up at the receding hairline of their friend.

"Now never you mind, the both of ya!" he shouted. "But Dan'l, you know how proud Mingo is of doing his own work. How you gonna convince him to let Jericho work his traps for him?"

Daniel walked over to where he had left his cap and mittens.

"You just leave that to me. I'll get him at his weakest moment. We're headin' back out tomorrow for a month. You ain't seen him like I have, gentlemen. 'Bout that third week away from home he gets to starrin' into the campfire at night, thinkin' bout that little baby boy of his and Songbird. Don't you worry, I'll convince him."

The big man picked up Ticklicker, turned back and waved, "Happy New Year, boys!" he shouted. Yancy looked up and waved.

"Same to you, Dan'l," Jericho and Cincinnatus answered.

"Good trappin'," Cincinnatus added.

"And we'll see you back here come February 2nd!" Daniel winked.

"You betcha!" Cincinnatus answered. "February 2nd it is!"

Daniel opened the door real careful and stepped out into the last snowstorm that 1775 would bring.

**Chapter 4**

The first chirp of the cold morning could be heard outside. Those birds who chose to stay north for the winter announced the dawn's early light with a song. Inside Mingo and Songbird's lodge, safe and warm from the late December snowstorm, a little bird had begun his chirping too.

Ken-tah-teh was awake, ready for dry pants and something to eat. He sat up in bed between his mother and father, waiting to see which of them would wake up first.

"Mama? Papa?" he repeated.

Both Songbird and Mingo knew the instant their baby had sat up, but neither had stirred enough to open their eyes. In their big, wide bed padded with soft animal skins, Songbird slept on the inside against the wall. Mingo slept on the outside, close to his rifle, able to get up quickly if trouble arose. Ken-tah-teh slept in between them and was usually the first to wake in the morning.

Songbird moved first, opened her eyes and patted her baby's bare belly.

"Mama," he said aloud with a smile on his face. Could his big, brown eyes be open any wider, she thought.

"Sh, sh, sh," Songbird put her finger to her mouth. "Papa is sleeping." She pointed to Mingo who was covered up to his bare shoulders by the big elk skin blanket on the bed. Their lodge was warm so she knew he had gotten up some time in the night and put more wood on the fire.

The baby turned and looked at his father, "Papa 'seep?"

Now in his eleventh month, Ken-tah-teh had begun to put words together. Songbird nodded and climbed gently over her sleeping husband. She put on the long deerskin robe Mingo had given her. Open in the front like most mother's wearing apparel was, the baby watched her attentively. When she turned back to him, his arms shot up in the air.

"Up, up," he begged.

She picked him up and walked toward the fire ring.

"Papa 'seep?" he said again, pointing back to their bed.

"Yes, Ken-tah-teh, Papa 'seep," she mimicked him.

Songbird laid him down on the bearskin rug by the fire that warmed their lodge. With the extra skins that Mingo had put on the walls for insulation and plenty of wood for the fire, their home was a warm and happy one.

Mingo knew he should open his eyes and get started. He and Daniel were heading out once more to run their trap lines. But it was still early, too early even for Daniel to be up yet. So the Cherokee man laid quiet and warm under the covers, listening to the sounds of love that now filled his lodge every morning.

It was their ritual, mother and son, their time to be together. Songbird would wash and dry the baby's bottom and give him dry pants. All the while Ken-tah-teh jabbered in his own language to her. Of what he did yesterday and what he was going to do today. It was Tah-teh this and Tah-teh that.

The baby had chosen to go by the nickname Daniel had given him-Tah-teh, much to Mingo's chagrin. Still he loved to listen to their chatter.

"Papa is going trapping with Daniel so we need to let him sleep," Songbird told him.

At the mention of Daniel's name Mingo heard the baby say, "Po? 'Po?" It made him chuckle, for Ken-tah-teh had also chosen a nickname for Daniel. He knew Daniel as Papa's friend. Papa's friend whose son, Israel, has a pony. The baby loved horses, of any size, big or small. When Daniel and Israel came to visit, they were not allowed to come without the pony. So to Ken-tah-teh, Daniel was not Daniel. Daniel was 'Po.

Mingo heard him again, "Po? 'Po?"

"Yes, Ken-tah-teh," he heard Songbird say, "Po."

Then the lodge was quiet but for the suckling sound of Ken-tah-teh at his mother's breast. Soon enough they would wean him away from nursing, but for now it was a special time between mother and son. Mingo watched as his little hand reached up and touched Songbird's face as if to say "I love you." Songbird took his hand and kissed it.

"I love you, Ken-tah-teh," she whispered.

"Good boy, Ken-tah-teh," Songbird said when she heard his second burp. She sat him on her lap thinking maybe he would go back to sleep. Then with a wrinkled up nose, she exclaimed, "Ken-tah-teh, not again. I just gave you dry pants." She tickled his tummy and laid him on the rug again, reaching for another rabbit skin while the baby giggled.

"Papa 'seep?" he asked again and pointed to their bed.

"Yes, Papa is sleeping,"

Then he pointed to the door, "Po?"

Songbird nodded, "Yes, Papa and Daniel are leaving today. It will be just Ken-tah-teh and Mama for a little while." As she finished with his dry pants, the baby listened to every word she said.  
"Papa 'seep?" he asked and pointed to the bed again.

Songbird knew he wanted to get to their bed and Mingo.

"Yes," her finger to her mouth, "Shhhh, you lie here, Ken-tah-teh, on the rug while Mama washes her face."

She knew better, and turned to the basin full of water by the fire. Out of the corner of her eye she watched as he rolled over on his belly. Then he crawled like an inchworm over to the side of their bed-where she also knew her husband was pretending to be asleep.

Mingo purposely rolled onto his side so he would be facing out to his approaching baby boy. Making believe he was asleep, Mingo knew when littlest one reached the bed and slowly pulled himself up to a standing position. Holding tight to the side of the bed, Ken-tah-teh began to let his wishes be known.

"Up, Papa, up," he begged. "Tah-teh up, Papa," when he stretched to touch Mingo's face, his feet went out from under him. Before his little behind touched the floor Mingo swept him up.

"Papa's got you," he said and sat Ken-tah-teh on his own bare stomach. "Papa's got you." Mingo raised up and kissed the baby's cheek then laid back down.

"Good morning, "

A grin from ear to ear, Ken-tah-teh reached out, "Papa."

Mingo gazed into those love-filled brown eyes, "Can Papa have a kiss?"

Throwing himself forward onto Mingo's chest the baby landed a kiss on his father's chin.  
"Thank you," He told his little warrior.

Mingo looked over at Songbird who was still by the fire.

"Mama's watching us, Ken-tah-teh."

The baby pointed, "Mama?"

"Yes," Mingo answered and poked his little boy's bare belly. "Is Ken-tah-teh's belly full?"

The littlest one giggled and poked his own tummy.

"Tah-teh's beh-wee?"  
Mingo nodded, "Yes, Ken-tah-teh's belly. Where is Papa's belly?"

The baby scooted back leaning against Mingo's raised knees and poked his father's belly. Mingo pretended it tickled him making the baby laugh even more.

And so father and son's morning game began.

"Where is Papa's nose?"

Ken-tah-teh put his finger on Mingo's nose, then his own.

"Tah-teh's nose?"

Mingo nodded, "Yes.,"

They went thorough the eye, the mouth, the nose again, each time the baby making the right choice until Mingo asked him.

"Where is Ken-tah-teh's ear?"

The baby touched his own ear. Mingo grinned, "Where is Papa's ear?" He looked and looked at where Mingo's ear should be. But they had played this game too many times before. Again he scooted his bottom up so he was sitting on Mingo's chest. He picked up one of his father's braids and grabbed the ear hidden by the long black hair.

"Papa's ear," the baby said victoriously.

Mingo raised him up, "Ken-tah-teh is such a smart boy," he said, lowering the laughing baby down to his face he kissed him. Then Mingo laid him down on the bed beside him. He pulled the blanket up over the two of them. Then folding his hands behind his head Mingo laid back and sighed. When he looked over, Ken-tah-teh was trying to do the same thing.

Mingo could see Songbird smiling,

"Oh Ken-tah-teh," he groaned and stretched his arms and legs as far as he could. "Papa would stretch a mile if he didn't have to walk back." The baby did the same until his father reached over and tickled the little, bare belly with his braid.

Songbird sat by the fire ring enjoying a hot cup of tea.

"Mama," Mingo's voice spoke to her. "Come over and lay down with your men."

"Mama," Ken-tah-teh's voice followed. She looked over and saw the two of them stretched out on their bed. Holding Mingo's blue woolen trousers in her hand she stood up.

"If Mama doesn't mend Papa's pants before Daniel gets here, Papa will be very cold out in the snow." But those two pair of dark brown eyes called to her.

"It isn't even light yet," Mingo assured her. "Come over with us."

Laying the trousers down by Mingo's pack that she had readied for him earlier, she slipped out of her long robe, climbed over him and snuggled under the covers next to her men. The Cherokee man turned on his side facing his wife and son.

"Mama, Papa," Ken-tah-teh reached up and touched their faces. His eyes were slowly closing, until he was fast asleep.

"Our little warrior sleeps," Mingo told her and leaned over to kiss her. Under the covers he found Songbird's hand, then he laid back and they both dropped off to sleep themselves.

Mingo woke to the smell of something wonderful. The sweet smells of sassafras tea, corn meal mush, and maple syrup filled the lodge. Songbird had snuck out of bed without waking him and prepared him a hearty morning meal before he had to leave.

His pack, powder, and shot along with his rifle, whip, knife, and weapon belt she had ready for him by the door. The newly mended trousers were with his vest and moccasins waiting for him to change in to. Ken-tah-teh was still asleep as Mingo quietly got out of their bed. The first inklings of light were beginning to show as he peeked out the door. Daniel would be there in a couple of hours to pick him up. Those two hours belonged to he and Songbird.

"Brrrrrrrr," he shivered as he closed the door. He washed in the basin of fresh water his wife had poured for him. If only it was spring and the river was thawed, then he could have his morning swim. He joined Songbird by the fire. She stood up next to him,

"Would you like some mush, it is ready,"

"No, thank you,"

"No? But you will be hungry on the trail,"

Mingo put his arms around her and held her close to him. It would be four weeks until he would be able to do so again.

"This is what I will hunger for on the trail," he hugged her tighter. "And Ken-tah-teh's laugh."  
He looked over to the bed where their baby boy was still sleeping.

Songbird laid her head on his bare chest.

"And I will hunger for your touch as well," she murmured.

They stood quietly in each other's embrace. Mingo saw the morning meal she had prepared for him. And his gear all packed and ready for him by the door. He kissed the top of her head.

"Whatever did I do before you came into my life, Little One?" He looked at the bearskin rug on the floor.

"Come and lay with me before it is time to leave."

Songbird glanced over at Ken-tah-teh. Mingo put his hand under her chin.

"He will tell us when he is awake like he always does," he assured her.  
And they lay down by the fire as husband and wife.

Mingo was right. Ken-tah-teh woke up and began to cry. Songbird went to him and picked him up while Mingo got dressed. He sat down by the fire and poured them a cup of tea. The baby was waking up slowly and not as happily as he usually did.

"Sh, sh, sh, baby," Songbird said as she changed him again. She put one of his shirts on him and joined Mingo at the fire.

"Oh what's the matter,Little Warrior?" he said and put out his arms. "Come and have some mush with Papa." The baby went to Mingo who sat him on his knee. Ken-tah-teh settled back into the cradle of his father's arms.

"There now," he said wiping the tears that ran down the baby's cheeks, "You just woke up too quickly, like an ornery little bear cub didn't you?" Mingo poked him in his tummy and Ken-tah-teh began to smile. "I thought so," Mingo said and broke of a tiny piece of the cornmeal mush, dipped it in the syrup and gave it to the baby. Ken-tah-teh's eyes widened as he chewed on the sweet treat.

"You will be a good boy for Mama, while Papa is gone with Daniel?" Ken-tah-teh was pointing to the mush until he heard Daniel's name.

" 'Po?" the little voice asked.

"Yes, Daniel and Papa must go check their trap lines again."

He held tight to his son for as long as he could before leaving. He knew he must go to provide for his family, but how he hated to be away from them.

"One day, Ken-tah-teh, you and Israel will help Papa and Daniel with the trapping and hunting and fishing. Would you like that?" The baby watched and listened to all his father said to him. Mingo rocked him gently, humming a song to him. Ken-tah-teh reached up and touched his father's face.

"Papa," he cooed, as if to say I love you just like he had done to his mother earlier. Mingo saw the smile on Songbird's face and winked a kiss to her.

The call of a whip-poor-will broke the calm of their morning together. Ken-tah-teh, who was almost asleep in the comfort of his father's arms perked up immediately.

" 'Po?" he looked up at Mingo who laughed at his son.

"He didn't fool you did he, Ken-tah-teh? Good boy."

The whip-poor-will was Daniel's signal that he was outside. Songbird opened the door.  
"Come in, Daniel," she said. "And get warm."

"Good morning, Songbird, how are you this cold morning?" the big man in buckskins said as he ducked his head to enter.

"We are all well, Daniel, thank you. Would you like a cup of tea?"

He took off his gloves and set his rifle safely by the door.

"No, thank you, Songbird, Becky and I drank a whole pot of coffee with breakfast this morning."  
A little voice could be heard from the fire ring in the center of the lodge.

" 'Po? 'Po?" Ken-tah-teh let his presence be known to Daniel.

"Well hello there, Tah-teh," the big man walked over to the fire where Mingo and his son were still sitting. He put out his arms and the baby reached to go to him.

"Ohhhh," Daniel groaned. "By golly yur gettin' big."

Ken-tah-teh pointed to the door, " 'Po?"

Daniel laughed. "No, Ken-tah-teh, no pony today. The snow is too cold for his feet." He grabbed the baby's toes and wiggled them. "But just look what Becky and Mima made for you." He pulled out of his coat pocket a pair of coonskin slippers just the right size for the littlest one's feet to grow in to. Daniel tickled the baby's foot with the furry shoes. Mingo stood up beside the man he called blood brother and rolled his eyes.

"Well I figured if your Papa won't let you wear a coonskin cap at least you can wear these fine coonskin slippers to keep those little toes of yours warm."

Songbird joined them, "Oh Daniel, you will remember to thank Rebecca and Jemima for me."

The big man was still holding the baby who continued to look at the door, hoping for Israel's pony to come in.

"You'll probably be able to thank 'em yourself, Songbird, cuz they told me to tell you they planned to visit you and Tah-teh while we're gone."

"Tah-teh?" the little dark-haired one repeated when he heard his name.

"See Mingo, even Tah-teh himself likes that name," Daniel tapped the nose on the little face that was looking him straight in the eye.

Mingo's lips were pursed, "Very well, 'Po Boone, 'tall as a timber, big as a mountain.' Yes, I like the sound of that."

Silence filled the lodge as the three adults looked at the littlest one whose answer was to take hold of Daniel's nose.

" 'Po nose?" he asked innocently.

All three of them could not keep a straight face and burst out laughing. Daniel hugged the baby and gently tapped his behind.

"Yes, Tah-teh, 'Po's nose."

"You know Daniel, even my son knows that the whip-poor-will goes south to winter," Mingo said while putting on his coat and weapon belt. "You had better change your signal call to allow for the proper season."

Daniel handed the baby to Songbird when he saw Mingo getting ready.

"Oh I was just testin' you, Mingo."

The Cherokee grinned, and then a glint of pride showed in the father's eyes.

"Ken-tah-teh, let's show Daniel what you can do. All right, Mama?"

Songbird bent down, and let the baby stand in front of her, holding tight to him. Reaching out to his son, Mingo got down on his knees about five feet across from them.

"Come to Papa, Ken-tah-teh."

The littlest one took one step, still holding on to Songbird's hands. Then he took two, three, four and more steps while still holding his mother's hands. Mingo scooped him up, holding him tight,

"That's my big river boy. What do you think of that, Daniel?"

Daniel clapped his hands together. "Won't be long 'fore he'll be helping us run our trap lines."

The Cherokee man held his son close. Daniel reached over and tickled the baby under the chin.

"I'll meet you at the spring, Mingo," he said and went to the door. "Bye Songbird, bye Tah-teh."

"Bye Daniel," Songbird said. "Wave bye to Daniel, Ken-tah-teh."

The baby raised his hand and waved, then laid his head down on Mingo's shoulder almost as if he knew his father would be going too. Daniel smiled and went out the door.

'I'll be right there, Daniel," Mingo stood at the door looking lonesome already. He patted his baby boy gently on the back. "You will be a good boy for Mama, while Papa is gone with Daniel."

Ken-tah-teh lifted his head and looked toward the door. " 'Po?"

"Yes, 'Po," Mingo smiled at Songbird who joined them at the door. Goodbyes were getting harder for him to say to his family.

"Give Papa a big kiss, baby," she told him. Ken-tah-teh gave Mingo a kiss.

"And a big bear hug," she said. His little arms went around Mingo's neck and while he squeezed, both he and his father pretended to growl.

"Grrrrrrrrr," father and son smiled at each other.

Songbird put our her arms, "Come to Mama, so Papa can go."

The baby looked at his father, "Tah-teh go?" Mingo's eyes met Songbird's who knew his heart was breaking. She took the baby from him.

"No Tah-teh needs to stay with Mama and maybe we will go visit 'Eeeoww. Would you like that?"  
The baby's face lit up. " 'Eeeoww?" he repeated.

'Eeeoww was Ken-tah-teh's name for Cincinnatus. The first time the grizzled tavern-keeper picked up Ken-tah-teh, the baby grabbed his beard. Cincinnatus pretended it hurt and yelled, "Eeowwww."

Both of them laughed and laughed. So Cincinnatus was given a new name.

Mingo put his pack and powder horn over his shoulder and turned back to his family. He leaned over and kissed Songbird, "I love you," He whispered, then he kissed the baby. "Papa loves you, Ken-tah-teh. Be a good little warrior and take care of Mama."

Ken-tah-teh grabbed his father's nose. Mingo smiled, took his little hand in his and kissed it. Then the tall Cherokee man picked up his rifle and opened the door. He looked back at them and waved.

"Wave bye to Papa," Songbird told her little one. "Be safe, my husband," she mouthed to him.

Ken-tah-teh's hand went up in the air as he waved goodbye.

That was the picture that would keep Mingo safe and warm while he and Daniel trapped for the next month. Mother and son, Songbird and Ken-tah-teh, his family.


	2. Chapters 5 to 8

Ken-tah-teh, A Promise

**Chapter 5**

The Great Spirit seemed to be looking out for the two blood brothers. Daniel and Mingo set their traps along the Kentucky River close enough that they could sleep in the cave if they chose to. And in the January cold, they chose to.

The trapping was good and the pelts were prime and plentiful. Three weeks into their planned, four-week January outing the two men stood on the banks of the frozen river.

"Another month or so, Mingo, and the river should start to melt," Daniel said. "Maybe sooner with an early spring thaw."

Both of the tall men had their arms wrapped around them, hands inside their coats to keep them warm.

"If we keep taking in furs like we have been, Daniel, we'll need more than one canoe to bring our final cache home."

Sundown had snuck up on the two outdoorsmen as they stood side by side. There was an eerie silence among the trees surrounding them. The sky was a frigid purple and orange. Almost mesmerized by the glare of the rising moon on the frozen Kentucky, they both shivered.

"Gonna be a cold one tonight," Daniel slapped his friend on the back. "I'm glad I decided we should sleep in the cave tonight." He turned in the direction of their little sanctuary from the winter temperatures.

"You?" Mingo shouted, doing his best to keep in step with the big man. "I distinctly recall it being my suggestion we stay here for the night."

A warm and bright campfire was burning inside, as the last slither of sunlight shone on the horizon. Two ring-necked pheasants were roasting over the flames while the men had gone outside for one last look around. Daniel laughed. He had gotten his friend's goat again.

"Come on, Mingo, those birds ought to be just about ready."

It turned out to be a very cold night. Clear skies and a full moon had that tendency. With plenty of firewood and the fur covering they rigged to go over the cave entrance, the two trappers escaped the frigid temperatures.

Both men were quite comfortable. The cave was wide enough they could stretch out, one on each side of the fire. Daniel smacked his lips and rubbed his hands together over the warmth.

"I don't know how you do it, Mingo?"

"Do what, Daniel?" The Indian remarked as he sprinkled a little salt over the simmering meat and checked the biscuits baking on the hot stone by the fire.

"You always seem to find the plumpest birds-almost like they walk right up and ask you to cook 'em for supper."

Mingo grinned, "Well I can't be certain, Daniel, but I think it may have something to do with my feathers."

Daniel's face broke into his lop-sided grin.

"I think you're right, Mingo."

The two of them ate their fill of bird and biscuit, while outside the moonlight turned the snow-covered ground into a carpet of sparkling jewels.

"Yes sir, Mingo, you cook a mighty fine re-past." Daniel stood up and stretched.  
"I'll go rinse the dishes and get us enough snow for a pot of coffee if you take care of the rest of the meat."

The Cherokee crossed his arms over his chest, and nodded toward the two carcasses stripped clean. "The rest of what meat, Daniel?"

"You mean to say we ate both those birds in one sittin' ?"

Mingo picked up one of the naked carcasses, "It would seem so, but then we had no midday meal to speak of either."

Daniel turned to go outside, "We did cover quite a few miles today, didn't we?"

"That we did," Mingo agreed. He slowly got to his feet, groaning and holding onto his back as he did so.

"What's the matter?" Daniel's eyebrows hid a forthcoming smirk as he waited for an explanation.

The Cherokee leaned over backwards trying to stretch out the tired muscles.

"Ever since Ken-tah-teh found that he can stand and walk as long as someone holds on to his hands that is all he wants to do back and forth, back and forth."

Daniel snickered and came over to his friend, "Kinda gits ya right here don't it?" He poked Mingo in the small of his back.

Mingo nodded in agreement, "I've walked more miles hunched over holding on to his hands than I ever walked with you, Daniel, on our many trails through the wilderness."

"Ain't easy bein' as tall as a timber, is it old man? " Daniel queried. "You rest easy then and I'll go fetch us some water for the coffee."

Daniel's laughter echoed through the cave as the Cherokee rolled his eyes. The well-worn coffee pot almost readied itself. It had provided the two wilderness men with many a cup of the steaming beverage. Mingo leaned back against the hard wall of the cave and thought of only two things -Songbird and Ken-tah-teh.

It had been one month since he and Daniel had left on that cold morning. He missed his family. How one beautiful woman now made his life complete. And how one little bundle of energy could give a man such joy. He wondered if he had ever given his own father that same amount of joy.

Those early days of his childhood in Kentucky, with Talota, his Cherokee mother and father were hard to recall. The unhappy days of his life in London seemed to overshadow them. At times, there would be a spark of a memory-a good memory when he held Ken-tah-teh in his arms. He wondered if his father, Lord Dunsmore, now Governor General of Virgina and loyal British subject would ever see his grandson-or if he would even care to.

"Here we go! Got that pot ready?" Daniel's bellowing voice brought Mingo back to the matters at hand. "I found a break in the ice and got us some fresh water instead of snow."

"Ready and waiting," Mingo answered and handed him the pot. Daniel filled it up and put it by the fire. Both men leaned back and rested while the coffee brewed. Shadows danced on the walls of the cave from the flickering flames. They began to lull both of the tired men to sleep.

"Hmmmm," Daniel sighed. "You wouldn't happen to have any of those sugar cookies left, would you, Mingo?"

"Sorry, Daniel, but those were gone yesterday." The Cherokee man poured a cup coffee and passed it to his friend. "Here you go."

The big man blew on the steaming drink and took a sip. "Mmmm, mighty good coffee, Mingo. What is your secret?"

Mingo took his first sip while the dimples on his face appeared. "My secret, Daniel, is not to let you make the coffee."

Daniel peered out over the rim of his cup, "Oh now that hurts, Mingo," he leaned back and grinned. "Yep, mighty good coffee."

Mingo reached into his pack, and brought out four big, red apples. "Will these do for some dessert?" He waited for Daniel to set down his cup and tossed him one and then another.

"Now where in the world did you get these beauties?" the big man asked as he took huge bite out of the first one.

Mingo finished chewing his first bite of the sweet fruit and swallowed.

"Songbird hid an entire bushel of these from me in our root cellar so they would last through the winter."

Daniel was halfway through his second apple, "That's a smart woman you married there, Mingo. You better hold on to her."

The Cherokee man nodded, "I plan to, Daniel. I plan to." He finished his first apple and took another sip of coffee, gazing into the fire.

"Miss 'em, don't you?"

"Eh?" Mingo looked up.

"Tah-teh and Songbird, you miss 'em."

Mingo tossed Daniel his second apple. "I miss them terribly," he answered as he threw his apple core into the fire. "Funny isn't it, Daniel how a man's life can change in a year or two? If you would have told me a year ago that I would be married and have a son I would have told you, you were daft."

He poured himself another cup of coffee and offered Daniel the rest.

"No thanks," the big man said.

Mingo continued,

"I always thought the road for me would be a solitary one and now I cannot imagine my life without them." He shook his head and laughed. "Each time I return home from checking our trap lines he is bigger, and talking more." Seriously, he looked at Daniel. "Don't you miss Israel and Jemima when you are gone?"

Daniel threw some more wood on the fire, "'Course I do, but they're bigger. There isn't anything more special than their first year or two. I know what you're goin'through, Mingo."

They set their cups by the empty coffee pot and settled in for the night. Mingo pulled his blanket all the way up to his chin while Daniel pulled his up to his shoulders and covered his eyes with his coonskin cap.

"Goodnight, Daniel."

There was no answer.

"Daniel?"

The big man sat up so fast his cap almost fell into the fire. He caught it just in time.

"You know, Mingo, I been thinkin' " and then he said nothing.

"Yes, Daniel, you been thinkin' " Mingo said, imitating his friend's speech pattern.

"We got two, maybe three more months of trappin' and," Daniel stopped again.

"And?" Mingo queried.

Daniel continued, "And it's gettin' harder and harder for you to leave Songbird and Ken-tah-teh."

Mingo had to laugh at Daniel finally saying his son's whole name. "Daniel, what are you trying to say? I would like to get at least one hour of sleep before the sun comes up and it's time to go."

The big man rubbed his hands over the fire nervously, "I think you need to stay home and…"

Mingo sat up, "Now Daniel, you know very well that February and March are the best months of the trapping season and I will not allow you to do all the work alone."

Daniel put his hands together, "Now Mingo, just hear me out. Doesn't Jericho still owe you some money from your last trip to Salem?"

The Cherokee sat back, "Well maybe a few pounds."

Daniel's eyes smiled, "I happen to know it's more than a few pounds and I bet he'd be tickled to work your part of the trap line to pay off his debt to you."

Mingo was a man who prided himself on his work ethic and paying his own way.

"I don't know, Daniel. I wouldn't feel comfortable asking Jericho to do that."

Daniel lay back down and put his cap over his eyes, his way of saying he was ready to turn in.

"Well that's fine, Mingo, cuz I already asked Jericho and he already said yes."

"But…" Mingo started to resist.

Daniel raised up, his eyes still covered by his cap. He pointed to the Cherokee that he could not see.

"No buts. You better get some sleep cuz we're headin' home tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? But Daniel I thought we still had another week to go."

The big man moved enough of his cap so that one eye was showing.

"Mingo, we for certain ain't gonna be out in this wilderness come the 2nd of February."

Now the Cherokee was really confused. "The 2nd of February?"

Daniel tipped his cap back so both eyes were uncovered.

"Mingo, I'm surprised at you. Don't you remember what you were doin' just about one year ago come a week?"

Mingo leaned back, pondering the date, and then a father's smile appeared on his face.

"I knew it was early February, but not paying attention to your white man's calendar I hadn't kept track of the particular date."

Daniel smiled, "Well my wife and young'uns have been keepin' track and Eeeowww too. They're plannin' a shindig for that little boy of yours. One year old is a mighty big steppin' stone in a man's life. Now get some sleep before the sun comes up and it's time to go." With one toss of his head, the coonskin cap covered both his eyes again.

"It suits you, Mingo." a voice came from under the coonskin cap.

"What's that, Daniel?"

"Fatherhood. It suits you," Daniel answered.

Mingo leaned back, closed his eyes and remembered the first time he laid eyes on his son laying quietly in Songbird's arms.

"I wish it was sunup already," he thought.

**Chapter 6**

Daniel and Mingo, each packed out as many furs as they could. Carrying "money" on their backs made the trip home faster and easier. They left their cache of furs at the tavern where Cincinnatus credited their tabs for future purchases.

"See you boys day after tomorrow?" their bearded friend yelled as the two tired trappers left his establishment.

Daniel waved, "See you then, Cincinnatus," and looked at Mingo whose face asked the question "Why?" They walked to the gate of the fort.

"Mingo, I told you my family wants to celebrate Tah-teh's first birthday and that's day after tomorrow." Both men waved to Tupper who was standing lookout.

"But Daniel, the tavern?"

"Well Mingo, Cincinnatus wants to celebrate too. You know how he feels 'bout Songbird and Tah-teh, and you too, but he's got some men staying at the tavern."

Light snowflakes began to cover Daniel's coonskin cap, Mingo's feathers and the trail beneath their feet.

"Men?" Mingo asked.

"A special detail of surveyors contracted by the Continental Army. They're laying down groundwork for a new fort to be built between here and Salem. Gonna build a new road through the hills and across the Kentucky. Yancy's been scoutin' for em until the weather breaks and they can start clearin' the land."

The two friends soon reached the place in the road where they would split up and head home to their families. Both stopped, and leaned on their rifles.

"You don't want to hurt "Eeeeowww's feelin's now do ya?"

"Certainly not," Mingo smiled. "What time should we be there?"

The big man in buckskins pondered, "How 'bout a little after midday?'

Mingo nodded, "What can we bring to this 'get-together'?"

Daniel was already half way home, "Just bring the guest of honor and his Mama-and you!"

The Cherokee man laughed at his friend and waved. He hurried down the road himself, to his lodge and his family.

A winter's sunset always seemed darker and shorter, Daniel thought as he approached his cabin. Smoke from the chimney and a light in the window meant his family was still up. Mingo's question stuck in his mind,

"Don't you miss Jemima and Israel and Rebecca, when you are gone?"

Of course, he missed his family while he was away from them. It just took a new Papa's way of thinkin' to remind the big man of how much. A grin came on his face as Daniel thought about his own little boy, Israel. How he would jump into his arms when he came through the door. And Jemima's pretty smile was a greeting all its own. His Becky's kiss hello and the look of love in her eyes. This was the real warmth that gets a man through the winter, he thought to himself.

Knowing what was to follow, Daniel leaned Ticklicker safely on the wood box on the front porch. His voice bellowed as he stepped up to the entrance of his cabin,

"Anybody home in the Boone household?"

"Pa!" a high-pitched voice was the first to answer. Daniel opened the door to an armful of Israel. His light-haired son was the man of the family while he was gone. But he was his father's little boy when he came home.

Is'rl, I declare you've grown a foot!" The big man squeezed him tight, then set him down, patting his behind as he did so.

Next came Jemima, "Missed you, Pa," she said, putting her arm around his waist hugging him tight. Daniel kissed her forehead and hugged her back.

" 'Mima, you're as pretty as your Ma," he whispered.

She blushed, "Oh, Pa." Jemima backed away allowing her mother to say her hello.

The red-haired Irish lass fell into her husband's arms. "It's so good to have you home, Dan."

Daniel wrapped his big arms around her, holding her close. Then he kissed her, smiled and kissed her again. He wouldn't let her go.

"What is it, Dan? What's wrong?" Becky asked him.

He put out his hand to Jemima and Israel so they would join in the hug.

"Nothin' is wrong, Becky. I just missed my family that's all."

Daniel imagined the same warm reception was happening in a Cherokee-Choctaw lodge down by Birch Tree River.

The sun looked cold, as it dipped beneath the horizon. Swift moccasins crossed the trail between the tavern and his lodge. Mingo remembered the days when he would have stayed for a pint or two before heading home. Those days were now gone and happily so. Home carried a new meaning for the Cherokee man. His simple lodge now held much more than his few material goods. It held his wife and son.

Even Daniel reneged on the second ale Cincinnatus offered the two of them. Mingo hoped he hadn't hurt his friend's feelings when he asked him if he didn't miss his children. There wasn't a more devoted family man than Daniel Boone. Mingo knew even with the cold winter air of approaching nightfall, the Boone cabin would be filled with the glow of hugs, kisses, and togetherness.

The Cherokee couldn't make his feet move fast enough. He reached the clearing that was home to his lodge as the last sliver of light left the sky. The branches of the surrounding trees were empty, but his heart was full. With cupped hands, he made the gobble of a wild turkey. Songbird, he knew would hear it and know it was him. The young father wondered if his baby boy would know too or if he was already fast asleep.

"Is anyone home?" Mingo's mellow voice inquired. As he opened the door and laid down his unloaded rifle and gear, his gaze fell upon the joy that now filled his life. Across the room Songbird sat by the fire, with Ken-tah-teh in her lap. Their smiles lit up the lodge as Songbird winked at her husband. She stood the baby up on his feet.

"Go see Papa, Ken-tah-teh," she told him. Mingo started toward them, but she shook her head no. The Cherokee man bent down on one knee. It was a good ten feet between them. With wobbly, but sure steps, the baby proudly and carefully walked to the outstretched arms of his father.

"Look at my big boy, would you?" Mingo scooped him up and squeezed him tight. "Walking like a man all around our lodge." Ken-tah-teh's face was aglow with victory. "Can Papa have a hug?" The baby threw his arms around Mingo's neck. "And a kiss?" He answered with a kiss for his father. "I missed you, Ken-tah-teh," the proud Cherokee man said, then pointed to the other love in his life. "Who is that?" he asked the baby.

Ken-tah-teh smiled, "Mama."

Mingo nodded, "Shall we give Mama a kiss too?"

Ken-tah-teh pointed to Songbird. "Mama."

Mingo walked over to the fire and sat down by the beautiful maiden who had changed his life forever. Holding on to the baby, he looked into her eyes. "I missed you too, Little One." Putting his arm around her, he pulled her in close and gently kissed her.

"We missed you too," Songbird laid her head on his chest. "It is good to have you home."

Mingo leaned back and relaxed. In his arms the two most precious things in his life.

"It is good to be home."

Ken-tah-teh wriggled out of his father's arms and got to the floor. Mingo watched as he toddled all around the lodge.

"He grows more every time I return home," Mingo tightened his hold on Songbird. "Look at him go," he laughed.

The little warrior proceeded to bring to his mother and father every object he could find and carry without falling. One of Songbird's moccasins, Mingo's mittens, one of his mother's wooden spoons, his own playball. Each time making certain his parents named the item as he placed it at their feet. Songbird nudged her husband, "Our son likes to help me keep our lodge clean."

Mingo shook his head as he watched him. "I was afraid he would be asleep when I got here."

Songbird smiled, "I think he knew you would be home today. Don't ask me how, but I could not get him to go to sleep tonight."

The baby continued to bring what he could to show them. Finally, Mingo looked at Songbird, "How long will he keep doing this?"

"Until he tires himself out or runs out of things I allow to be within his reach."

The Cherokee man sighed, "He is tiring me out. I can't stand it any longer. Ken-tah-teh," Mingo said. The baby was almost to their bed, still searching. He turned to his father.

"Come here a moment," Mingo motioned for him to come.

Ken-tah-teh pointed to Songbird's other moccasin on the floor. "Uhhhh?"

Mingo shook his head no. "Come here, son."

The baby pointed again, "Uhhhh?"

Mingo put out his arms. "Come give Papa a big bear hug," he said. "We will get Mama's other shoe later."

Ken-tah-teh's face lit up and as quick as his little feet would go he scooted to his father. Mingo lifted him up and at once, he threw his arms around his Mingo's neck.

"Grrrrrr," the tiny voice growled. It was one of their games.

"Grrrrr," Mingo growled back and hugged him close.

Ken-tah-teh held on tight. "Papa." His brown eyes met with Mingo's.

He could feel his little boy nestle into his embrace.

"Papa's home," he said as he patted his tiny back. "Papa's home, son, for a long time." It was only a few minutes before the baby was sound asleep.

Mingo and Songbird sat by the fire enjoying its warmth and theirs.

"Are you hungry?" she asked and began to get up. He kept her from going.

"No, I am not hungry, only for this," he answered and held the two of them closer. He told Songbird about the deal Daniel and Jericho had contrived.

"Yes," she said. "Jericho is very happy about it. He told me when we visited the tavern while you were gone." The fire crackled as they talked. "But he and Cincinnatus were a little worried that Daniel would not be able to convince you."

With a shake of his feathers, Mingo laughed, "Oh Daniel can be very convincing and very sneaky. Although I am certain he will say he was being tactful." The Cherokee man moved to get more comfortable. Ken-tah-teh opened his eyes, lifted his head for just a moment, and then laid it on Mingo's shoulder, fast asleep.

Mingo continued, "He sprang the plan on me one night like this when the fire was warm. He knew I was missing you both."

Songbird patted his arm.

"I am glad," she said. "I am glad because it will let Jericho repay the debt he owes and it will let you stay home with us." She reached up and kissed him.

"I am glad too." he answered. "Little One?"

She nestled in as close as she could get to him.

"What?"

"Do you remember what we were doing this time one year ago?"

She gently pinched his side where she knew he was ticklish. "I remember you and Running Deer pacing for hours outside of the lean-to by the river."

He twitched at her touch. "I mean after that."

Her hand went from Mingo's side to Ken-tah-teh's back, rubbing in gentle circles like any mother would. "I remember the look on your face when you first saw your son," she smiled. "And the sound of your voice when you held him in your arms and gentled his crying with your song."

Mingo nodded as the memory put a lump in his throat.

"And I remember the pride in your voice when you told Daniel his name, Ken-tah-teh." She sat up and put her arms around them both. "Yes, my husband, my Cherokee warrior, I remember."

Gently, he caressed her cheek with his lips.

"Do you remember?" she asked him.

Mingo swallowed, "I remember never seeing anything so beautiful as you holding our baby. And how it took my breath away when you said, come and see our son." He took a deep breath and looked at Ken-tah-teh who was still sleeping. "When I held him for the first time, life took on an entirely new meaning for me." Mingo leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment. "When I said his name for the first time, my heart was pounding inside my chest. And Daniel's handshake was not just as a blood brother, but as a father."

He smiled at Songbird, "I have so many 'remembers' in this last year."  
A proud father's grin appeared on his face as he spoke. "I remember the first time he called me 'Papa', no other name means so much to me now. And whenever I watch as you feed him, how he gazes into your eyes. That is a 'remember' I take with me whenever I am away from you." Mingo shivered, "The coldness each time I have to say goodbye, and the warmth when I return." Then he gently patted Ken-tah-teh's behind, "But that is enough talk from me. I think it is time for bed."

"I think so too," Songbird agreed. "Give him to me; I will get him ready for bed."

Mingo stood up slowly, his back a little stiff from sitting so long. "No, Mama, you go and warm up the bed for us. I will get him ready and we will join you." The baby was still sound asleep. Mingo laughed. It seemed waiting for his Papa to come home had gone way past his bedtime.

The big clay washbasin was filled with fresh water from the rain barrel. In spring and summer, the barrel sat outside to catch the rainwater. Now it sat just inside the door of their lodge. Mingo kept it filled with water from the river or melted snow if the river froze over. He had made sure it was filled to the brim before he left with Daniel.

The pretty Choctaw maiden washed her face and hands, then left the washcloth and towel for her men to use. On their bed, Songbird threw back the big elk skin blanket. She took off her deerskin robe and slipped under the covers. She watched as father and son got ready for bed. Already Mingo had taken off his vest and Ken-tah-teh's shirt and pants. The bare-naked baby lay on the rug, still half-asleep.

He was a big baby for his age, long and lean, with just enough baby fat to pinch a little; Songbird would tell him when she bathed him. Jet-black hair that covered his head to his ears and neck, and big, brown eyes like his father.

"You are my handsome, little warrior," she would tell him. "just like Papa." which always made him smile. She watched and listened as Mingo readied him for bed.

He washed him and gave him dry pants, then rinsing the cloth Mingo proceeded to wash the baby's face and hands and belly. Ken-tah-teh woke up and began to fuss, but the soothing sound of his father's voice was a lullaby to him. "Sh, sh, sh, Ken-tah-teh, "he said wiping away the baby's tears. "We have to be nice and clean or Mama won't let her men sleep with her." The littlest one yawned and stretched, then fell back to sleep. "Yes, son," Mingo stood over the wash basin, "Mama likes her men clean and fresh, not like some old smelly bear."

It made Songbird laugh.

Mingo took off his feathers, armlet and bracelet and threw them by his vest. She had missed him more than she realized as she took notice. Their bed would not feel empty this night. He then washed his own face and hands, arms and chest. Then rinsing the cloth in the water, he put it on his neck and let it run down his back. After drying off with the big cloth she had left them, he picked up Ken-tah-teh, and turned to Songbird.

"Mama, can we come to bed with you now?" The baby never stirred in the comfort of his father's arms. He was her Cherokee warrior, handsome, well muscled, strong, and now-home. She turned back the blanket and patted the empty side of the bed, an invitation to join her in sleep

"I think that is a yes, Ken-tah-teh," Mingo whispered to the baby who had no idea of the playful banter going on between his parents. He placed the sleeping infant in their bed of soft animal skins by Songbird who covered him up. The baby wriggled until he got comfortable and settled in to a deep sleep. Adding to the fire what he thought would be enough wood for the night, Mingo then joined them in bed. His rifle lay close by on the floor by his moccasins and trousers.

Songbird covered him up like she did the baby. Mingo wriggled under the blanket like Ken-tah-teh had done. Then he stretched out his tall form, putting his hands behind his head and gave out with a long sigh.

"Better than spending the night with Daniel in the cave?" she whispered.

He leaned up on one elbow, "Oh so much better…although, Daniel does not snore as loud as you do." Songbird reached over and lightly slapped his bare chest. Before she could take her hand back, Mingo took it in his. "I think we should spend the entire day tomorrow right here in bed."

She shook her head, "It sounds like a wonderful idea to me, but I do not think you will be able to convince him of that." Songbird's eyes fell on the baby sleeping between them. Mingo's eyes followed hers. "He is up at first light, and goes until the sun sets. If I am lucky I can get him to take one short sleep during the day."

Mingo laid back down listening to the crackle of the burning fire and the baby snores of his sleeping son. He squeezed Songbird's hand. "Did I remember to thank you?"

"Thank you?" she queried.

Mingo leaned back up on his elbow and looked at his wife. "Thank you for our son," he whispered.

Songbird smiled again. "I would thank you as well."

Mingo gently ran his fingers through the baby's hair, careful not to wake him.

"I think tomorrow, the day before we celebrate the birth of Ken-tah-teh at Eeeoowww's, that he and I are going to give you a Mama's day." Mingo thought for a moment. "It is all right with you that we will share his day of birth with our white friends there?"

Songbird looked at the baby she had given birth to one year ago and then to her husband. "Both of our Indian families know the importance of living among the white man, learning their customs, and sharing the land." She took Mingo's hand. "But that is not why Daniel and his family, and Cincinnatus and Yancy and all the rest want to celebrate his birthday as they call it." She smiled, "They do it because they love him and you."

"And you," Mingo added. He reached over and kissed the mother of his son. "Gv-ge-you-hi." He spoke in his Cherokee tongue, "I love you."

Songbird gently caressed his cheek, "Chi-hullo-li," she answered in her Choctaw tongue. "I love you. It is good to have you home again."

Sleep came to them as their eyes met in a long embrace.

**Chapter 7**

Around 5 AM Yancy's red rooster, Dudley, announced to Boonesborough and the world that it was the 3rd of February. "Time to get up!" his frosty crow made public. The only other person to hear him beside Yancy and his wife was Rebecca Boone. Their cabins were within shouting distance, or crowing distance in Dudley's case.

Rebecca's bed hadn't been this comfortable and full in a month. The big mountain of a man she called husband was the reason why it was cozy once more. She was a hardy woman of the wilderness. But when her man returned home to her, she became the blushing bride in love all over again. Feeling his back against hers was more warmth than any comforter in the settlement could give.

The Boone cabin was quiet and dark. Neither Jemima nor Israel had stirred. With a busy day ahead, Rebecca tried to slip out of their bed without waking her husband. He needed a good day of sleep after being out in the wilds for a month. And she needed to get started on Ken-tah-teh's maple birthday cake and her special maple syrup icing.

She tried getting out of their bed, but a big hand holding onto her nightdress would not allow it. It pulled her back under the covers.

"Daniel Boone," her high-pitched whisper squeaked as she burrowed deeper into the blankets and up against him. "You'll wake the children."

"So what?" the big man playfully whispered back and surrounded her in his embrace.

Rebecca Boone was a prisoner in her own bed. And escape never entered her mind.

Two hours later she woke with a start. Sunbeams through the window revealed to her what time it was. "Oh my word, Israel will be starving." Again she tried to get up, but a big arm lay across her middle.

"Dan, let me out of this bed," the snores from his side of the bed filled the alcove where they slept. When she slid out from under his grasp, Rebecca saw one green eye slowly open. She reached over and kissed his bare shoulder.

"You stay here, you need the rest," she whispered as she buttoned up her nightdress. The crooked, sleepy smile on his face warmed her more than he would ever know. Then came the snoring once again.

As she brushed her long red hair, she thought to herself, 'I'll get the fire going, start the coffee and the oatmeal, and then I'll get dressed.' She put her long housecoat on and opened the curtain to the alcove. To her surprise, Jemima and Israel were at the table eating their oatmeal. The fire was bright and the coffee pot was warming over the flames.

"Mornin', Ma," both children greeted her with a smile.

"Well, my word," was all she could say. Rebecca walked to the table and kissed them both on the head then went to the fire and poured herself a cup of coffee

"Good morning, to you."

Israel already had the mixing bowl for the cake and the jug of maple syrup on the table.

"Can we start now, Ma? Can we?" he begged.

"Israel!" Jemima said. "At least let Ma have her coffee."

The little boy's eyes snapped at his sister until Rebecca sat down by her white-haired son. With her behind she scooted him over until he started to giggle.

"Sh, sh, sh. Your Pa is still sleeping,"

The pioneer mother sipped slowly on her first cup of coffee.

"Mima, where did you learn to make such good coffee?"

The smile of a young lady who hoped to have a family of her own one day shone on Jemima's face.

"Oh, Ma, you know you taught me."

"I did?"

Rebecca teased, with just a hint of an Irish brogue in her voice. She nudged Israel again to include him in the fun. But the little boy was deep in thought. He had been toying with the same spoonful of oatmeal for the last five minutes.

Rebecca had an inkling of what was bothering her son. With all the talk of Ken-tah-teh's birthday and Dan being gone for so long, Israel Boone was feeling a bit left out. Being the recipient of his father's and Mingo's attention for so long and having a new, little rival to contend with was not setting well with him.

She knew Israel loved Mingo and Songbird's baby boy as much as the rest of them did. So the feelings he was having were most certainly confusing to him. Rebecca took the spoon out of his hand, lifted him up on her lap, and hugged him tight.

"What's the matter, Israel?" she asked softly.

"Nuthin', " he murmured, staring at the floor.

She winked at Jemima, and kissed his forehead.

"Hmm, you don't seem to have a fever,"

"Oh, ma," he moaned.

"You're excited about Ken-tah-teh's birthday aren't you? He is going to love that little pony you made for him out of corn stalks and husks.

He nodded hesitantly.

"Well what is it then?"

"Nuthin', I said."

Gently she took his chin in hand and looked him in the eye.

"I bet I know what's bothering you," she said.

Israel waited for her answer.

"I bet you think now that Ken-tah-teh is here, Mingo isn't going to take you hunting, and fishing any more."

Her little white-haired boy's eyes blinked in total disbelief.

"That's it, isn't it, Israel?"

Two large tears rolled down his cheeks as he nodded yes.

"I'm sorry, Ma," he swallowed. "I don't want to feel like that. You know I love Ken-tah-teh." His head dropped in embarrassment.

She hugged him tighter, and dried his tears with her apron strings.

"I know you do, Israel. And it's normal for you to feel that way."

"It is?"

"Why certainly it is," she wondered how long he had been struggling with these feelings.

"Contrary to what you might think, Israel, you are still a little boy."

She covered his mouth before he could object.

"And you've been the only little boy that Mingo had to share his Cherokee ways with. Now Mingo has a family and a little boy of his own."

Israel leaned back into his mother's arms.

"Do you think Mingo will still take me fishing and hunting and teach me how to shoot a bow and arrow?"

His little boy voice quivered as he fought back tears. There was a tone of real concern in his question. She remembered how Israel had taken to Mingo the very first time Daniel brought him home to meet them. The youngest Boone didn't see Cherokee, he didn't see Englishman, he just saw Mingo.

"Why, Israel, of course Mingo will still do all those things with you. Just because he has Ken-tah-teh doesn't mean he loves you any less. It just means he loves Ken-tah-teh a little more because he is his own blood. It's a different love, a father and son love."

His eyes were still full of worry.

"Like you and Pa," Jemima assured him, as only a big sister could. That brought a big smile to his little boy face. Rebecca nodded a thank you to her.

"Feel better?" Rebecca asked, as she gently ran her fingers through his hair.

His answer yes, turned into a very big yawn. He was still in his nightshirt.

"You know what I think, young man? I think you need to go back to bed and take a little nap. Your father kept you up way too late last night telling you trapping stories."

Pointing to the loft where he slept, "Go on now, Israel."

He jumped down off her lap and turned slowly toward his bed room.

"Aww criminently, Ma, only babies take naps." He said as he slunk toward the ladder to the loft.

Rebecca shared a smile with Jemima, and then looked at the alcove where her husband was still sleeping. Something clicked inside, maybe by working some of her motherly magic and diplomacy, she could make this situation advantageous to all parties concerned.

Israel, who did not want to be told to go to bed, even though a nap would make him much more agreeable when he woke, and for she and Mima who had a lot of work to do, work that would go much easier without the Boone menfolk underfoot.

"Wait just a minute, Israel. You know what would be an even better idea?"

The boy already had one foot on the ladder.

"What?" he asked.

Rebecca stood with her arms crossed.

"I think it would be better if you would go into our bed and make sure your Pa gets the rest he needs."

Israel turned back toward the two women, his face lit up like a new candle. Rebecca knew that this was a whole different kettle of stew. There was nothing Israel liked better than to jump into the oversized feather bed with his Ma and Pa.

Rebecca continued, shaking her finger mockingly at him, "If he tries to get up, you just wrestle him back down."

But she knew better. As soon as her little boy got in their bed, warm and safe, next to his Pa, he would be asleep in seconds.

"Do you think you can do that, Israel?"

Her words were wasted on an empty space where her son had been standing. The curtain around the alcove was rustling in a breeze named Israel. By the time she reached the curtain and peeked in, all she could see were the white locks on the top of his head. He was nestled deep under the covers and as close to his Pa as he could get.

"Sweet dreams, my baby boy," she said and kissed what she could see of him. As she turned and closed the curtain behind her, two sets of snores filled the bed room.

Jemima had already cleared the dishes off their big family-sized table and started to get what they would need to make the birthday cake. Rebecca planned to make a big cake for both Ken-tah-teh and Cincinnatus to celebrate their birthday. A maple cake with nuts and lots of maple syrup. She also planned on making a small cake just for the very special one year old, without nuts.

"One should have their very own cake for their first birthday, don't you think, Mima?"

The pretty redhead enjoyed having a baby to fuss over again, and him being Mingo's baby made it even more special. Rebecca smiled as she watched her daughter.

"Now then, Mima, we can get our work done without the men underfoot. Sticking their fingers in the maple syrup, eating all the nuts we cracked for the cake. But first…" she walked over to the fire. "I'm going to have another cup of your fine coffee."

The two women laughed as they sat together at the table, mother and daughter, planning their day ahead, and the special day tomorrow.

The same morning light which shone through the Boone's cabin was lighting the little lodge on Birch Tree River.

"Sh, sh, Ken-tah-teh," voice whispered. "Yes, Mama is sleeping. Let's make her a cup of tea."

Mingo had done what he had promised by letting her sleep. A warming fire, a dry Ken-tah-teh, and the aroma of sassafras that filled the lodge made for a nice surprise.

"Good morning," she said, stretching as she enjoyed the comfort of their big bed. She saw her baby's head quickly turn toward her. Mingo sat by the fire watching the tea they were brewing for her. Ken-tah-teh was standing, hand on his father's knee as he pointed to her.

"Mama," he said.

"Yes, I see Mama is awake," Mingo answered as he got ready to pour the hot tea for her. Songbird's moccasins were still on the floor where the baby had left them the night before. Mingo picked one of them up.

"Here, Ken-tah-teh, take Mama her shoe and give her a kiss."

Wearing a big smile, the baby toddled over to his mother, who had put on her robe and waited for him on the side of the bed.

"Mama," he said, proudly giving her the shoe he carried.

"Thank you, baby," she said and picked him up. "Can Mama have a good morning kiss?" Ken-tah-teh obliged as Mingo joined them with the steaming cup of tea.

"Hot, hot," Mingo held the cup away from the little pair of hands. He placed it on the floor by Songbird's feet and took Ken-tah-teh from her. "Let's see if Mama likes the tea we made for her," Mingo whispered in the baby's ear as he sat him on his lap.

The little mother took a sip, "Mmmmm, tastes good. Thank you, Ken-tah-teh," she told him. The baby's face lit up. "And thank you too, Papa," she repeated.

Ken-tah-teh looked up at his father and with no warning grabbed his nose.

"Nose," he stated innocently.

The little lodge by Birch Tree River filled with the laughter of a mother and father who, tomorrow would celebrate the anniversary of a very special birth.

Still holding his son, Mingo spoke up,

"I think, Ken-tah-teh, that from now on we will declare the day before your day of birth as Mama's Day. What do you think?"

Songbird smiled as Mingo nodded his head up and down, hoping the baby would do the same-which he did. Then he put out his arms for her to take him.

"Mama's Day?" She asked, as she took the baby in her arms. "Well first I think our little warrior is hungry." She opened the front of her robe and let him begin to nurse. Mingo leaned over and kissed her then stood up.

"Yes, Mama's Day. And I know just what we shall do for Mama today."

The Cherokee man added some wood to the fire, went outside and came back with the big kettle Songbird had traded for. Filling it with water, he put it over the flames.

"What is Papa doing, Ken-tah-teh?" Songbird asked her little one, who continued to nurse. She ran her fingers through his black hair. "You are Mama's handsome river boy," she sang to him. The baby took hold of her hand and held on tight.

Mingo went back outside and returned with the big wash tub Cincinnatus had given them.

"Ever' family needs a washtub," Cincinnatus would say, "whether you're Injun or white man. Fer washin' clothes, and dishes, and fer takin' a bath if you've a mind to."

Mingo placed the tub near the fire and emptied into it the now hot water from the kettle. Then he filled the kettle again and put it back on the fire.

Now Songbird could see what her husband was planning. He was fixing her a hot bath, something that was a rare and enjoyable occurrence in the wilderness. By the time Ken-tah-teh had been burped two times and his tummy filled, Mingo had the wash tub turned into a bath tub two thirds full of warm water.

He would let the last kettle come to a full boil until Songbird was ready for her bath. Then adding it to the tub, the water would be nice and warm for her. But when Ken-tah-teh saw the tub, there was no holding on to him. Songbird put him down and he scampered to his father, who stood between him and the fire.

Holding on to Mingo's trousers, he pulled himself up and peered into the tub full of water. He started to put his hand in, then looked up at Mingo.

"Hot?"

Mingo smiled proudly, "No, son, it's all right. It is not hot yet." Giving the baby an open invitation for some fun, Ken-tah-teh reached in with both hands and started splashing. Mingo picked him up.

"That is for Mama's bath first, Ken-tah-teh, not yours."

The baby shook his head, "No, Tah-teh," whining and wiggling in his father's arms. He leaned down toward the big tub of water. Ken-tah-teh loved a bath. He loved the water and was not afraid of being in the water. Both Mingo and Songbird made certain of that.

At an early age both of them would take him in the river when they were swimming. Slowly at first, they let him dangle his feet and splash. Then Mingo would sit him on his stomach while floating on his back. He would let the water come up around the baby's legs and tummy, holding tight to him. It wasn't long before the baby begged to be in the water with them.

As soon as the river warmed up this spring, Mingo planned to teach his son how to swim. But for right now that big tub of warm water looked very inviting to the little boy.

"Mama will take her bath first, then you," Mingo whispered to Ken-tah-teh. "She wants to look pretty for your party tomorrow." But the baby was not convinced.

"No," he answered abruptly, then pleaded. "Tah-teh down." Songbird joined her husband, who was in trouble with their son.

"Did I remember to tell you that he has learned a new word?" she asked him.

"No?" Mingo replied.

"Yes," she smiled. "No."

A disgruntled Ken-tah-teh kept on. "No, Papa."

Finally Mingo sat down with the baby on his knee. Firmly he spoke to his son.

"Listen to Papa. We are going to let Mama have her bath first."

The baby was still looking at the tub. Mingo continued, "While Mama enjoys her bath, would you like to go outside with Papa?"

Outside was the magic word. If there was anything that Mingo and Songbird's little boy liked better than the water, it was being outside. He pointed to the door of their lodge.

"Tah-teh go?" he begged his father.

Mingo stood up, hugging his baby while patting him on the behind.

"Yes, Tah-teh go," he assured him, smiling at Songbird, who had the baby's clothes in her hand.

"Come, Ken-tah-teh, Mama will get you dressed while Papa gets his coat."

Mingo handed her the little bundle of energy.

"Tah-teh go?" he repeated while she put on his long pants, fur boots, and a shirt. All the while the baby kept an eye on Mingo, making certain his father did not go out without him.

"Wait until they see your new coat, Ken-tah-teh," Songbird told him. Tekawitha, Mingo's cousin and adopted daughter of Chief Menewa had fashioned the baby a new bearskin coat, complete with hood and mittens. Inside it was lined with soft buckskin and when they put it on him he looked like a little bear cub.

Mingo laced his own coat and tied on his weapon belt. Taking only his knife and tomahawk with him, Songbird knew he was not planning to go too far from their lodge. He then went to the fire, took the last kettle of boiling water and poured it into the wash tub. Now Songbird would have a warm bath to enjoy while her men went outside to play.

"Grrrrr," Mingo growled. "Where is my little bear cub?"

Ken-tah-teh begged, "Up, me," his arms in the air as far as they would go all bundled up for the cold. "Tah-teh up," he asked again.

Mingo pretended to groan as he picked up his baby boy. "You are a growing bear cub, aren't you?"

Songbird watched as father and son went to the door. They turned back to her.

"All right, Mama, you enjoy your bath and we men will go hunting." Mingo winked at her. "Wave bye to Mama." The little furry bundle waved to Songbird, and out the door they went, leaving her to that wonderful tub of hot water. She watched for a moment from the door.

Mingo carried Ken-tah-teh to the garden where she would plant corn, squash, and beans. She could hear Mingo telling him what they would plant. He pointed out the trees and the birds that made them their home, all the while Ken-tah-teh's little head turning and taking in everything.

She knew Mingo would tell him of the Great Spirit and the many things He provided for his people. How they would thank the Great Spirit for all that He had given them. Mingo put the baby down on the bare and frozen ground. Holding onto his hands, Mingo walked slowly enough so the little warrior could keep up.

Father and son, walking together, Songbird knew it was something the Cherokee man had longed for. Taking one last peek at her husband and baby, she looked to the sky and thanked the Great Spirit. For this was something the beautiful Choctaw maiden had longed for as well.

Songbird closed the door, slipped off her long deerskin robe and stepped into the bath. As the water surrounded her body in warmth, she closed her eyes and sighed,

"And thank you, Great Spirit, for this most wonderful hot bath."

**Chapter 8**

"February's sun is a fool's sun," Cincinnatus Cicero Jones often said. "It shines bright in the sky, but chills you head to toe."

In the Kentucky wilderness, February could be one of the coldest months of the winter. On this 2nd day of February, 1776, the sun was radiant, but the air was brisk. Inside the tavern and general store of Boonesborough, Cincinnatus prepared for a very special celebration. One year ago today Mingo and Songbird's little boy was born. And it just so happened that it was his birthday too.

Jericho Jones, who was no relation to Cincinnatus, but a friend and helper around the store, had already filled the wood box to overflowing. The younger Jones cut plenty of wood to keep the tavern comfortable for the special event. He cleaned the soot and ash from the hearth as well. That would help the fire burn bright and warm and long.

Cincinnatus stood by the fireplace inspecting the good job Jericho had done. With one hand on the mantle, he stared into the flames. Songbird had sparked a memory deep inside him and touched the older man in a way no one else in Boonesborough knew about, except one other person,…and Cincinnatus knew he could trust that person to respect his privacy.

It was a time long past, in a different place and Cincinnatus had been a different man. Not the tavern-keeper, store owner, or doctor of Boonesborough that he was today. 'Natus Jones had been a fur trapper living in the hills of northwest Pennsylvania, along the Allegheny River.

The bearded man warmed his hands over the fire and remembered to years back-a young and beautiful Indian woman and a baby of his own. Long ago gone, but never forgotten, he reached for his handkerchief to dry his eyes.

Cincinnatus was happy for his friend, Mingo, the Cherokee man who had shown Daniel Boone the perfect place to build the fort they now called home. Being half-Cherokee, half-English, Mingo had always strived to bring peace between the white man and the Indians even when the white man didn't always treat him with the same respect.

The first time Cincinnatus saw Mingo and Songbird together, he knew it was a match made in Heaven, a match blessed by the Great Spirit. When the little Choctaw maiden smiled at the store keeper and shook his hand that first day, he was certain she was the one for Mingo.

The love of a good woman is what every man needs, the older man thought to himself, even if they won't admit it. Every man is searching for that love, for that partner who completes him. Some men find it, he thought. And some men find it, only to have it taken from him way too soon. His was a long, lost memory as cold as the ashes of a day old fire. But every so often, on a freezing winter's night, in an empty tavern, those memories came back and warmed his lonely heart as he sat by the hearth.

The comfort of this blazing fire before him now reminded him of the warmth of a woman's love that once was his. It was proper; the tavern-keeper thought again, that Mingo would meet someone so special, someone who would warm Mingo, like his woman had warmed him so long ago. It was proper because Mingo was that person who Cincinnatus had shared the story of his other life with. On a trip to Pennsylvania, he and Mingo shared several stories over their campfires at night.

But that memory was then and this was now, February 2nd, 1776. Today was Ken-tah-teh's first birthday. And even though Indians don't really celebrate birthdays the way the white man does, Mingo's friends among the white settlers of Boonesborough wanted to help him and his family celebrate this special day.

Cincinnatus was expecting the same little group who had welcomed Mingo and Songbird when they brought their baby boy home to their lodge for the first time. The Boones, Jericho, Tupper, Isaac Crandall and his wife, Marie and a man who Cincinnatus had been seeing a lot of in the tavern as of late, Yancy Taylor.

Yancy Taylor was tall like Daniel and Mingo, but thinner in build. He had a thick head of hair that had turned gray with age; Yancy did not wear a beard like so many other men of the fort.

"Gits in the way of kissin' my wife," the easy-going man would say with a grin.

All who knew him said, the only time you'd see Yancy without a smile on his face was if he was asleep. Although he was older, both Daniel and Mingo remarked how neither could keep up with him, whether they were hunting or fishing or eating. It was a well known fact in Boonesborough that Yancy Taylor loved a good meal, hard work, and his big family. When he wasn't laboring on his own farm, he was working odd jobs to make ends meet.

Right now, Yancy was a guide for the two surveyors hired by the Continental Army who were staying at Cincinnatus 'general store and tavern. They weren't men Yancy would normally associate with and there was something about them Cincinnatus didn't like. They were English; he knew that by their talk. There were many Englishmen who were on the side of the colonists. And Yancy wasn't one to pry in to a man's private business. The Continental Army was paying them to survey, just like they were paying Yancy to guide them.

Besides, this time of year when the root cellar was beginning to empty out, it helped keep food on the table, wood in the fireplace, and whatever else his wife, Sarah, and six young'uns might need to get through the winter. The job would only be for a few more months, and seldom was he away from home for more than one or two days. And Cincinnatus knew that was real important to this good-natured family man.

Yancy and the surveyors he was guiding had already had their morning meal and were gone. There was plenty of time for those who called Mingo and Songbird friends to come together for Ken-tah-teh's birthday. Cincinnatus felt bad that Yancy would not be here, but it was just as well. The tavern keeper didn't know the surveyors. They were strangers to Boonesborough, and hearing words like savages and redskins coming from their rum-filled mouths did not make for a good first impression. It was not an uncommon occurrence with so many travelers passing through, but Cincinnatus would have none of that today-not during Ken-tah-teh's party.

Most days, they left after they ate and did not return until sundown. After their supper and a few pints of rum, the four of them would bed down for the night in their rooms up over the tavern. But today of all days, just about midday when Cincinnatus was expecting the party guests, the door to the tavern flew open and in walked the four burly men and Yancy Taylor.

"Come on in," Cincinnatus shouted wearing a big smile that immediately turned to a scowl. Yancy quickly squeezed by the four men to get to him.

"I'm sorry, Cincinnatus, but there wasn't anything we could do. The pack horse went lame and we ended up totin' all the equipment back ourselves."

An icy glare followed each of the four men as they commandeered their table in the back of the room.

"Four rums if you please, Mr. Jones," John Eliot barked.

A full head of gray hair that matched his well-kept beard, John Eliot carried his 225 pounds well on his 6' 3" frame. He was the head surveyor. Working along side him was his younger brother, Cameron. His hair wasn't quite as gray yet, but he had the same build as his brother. They were English, leaving London two years before and traveling to the colonies to seek their fortune. John was 55 and Cameron, 48.

The other two men making up the foursome were Reese Gaylord and Simon Briggs. They were younger, both in their 30's. They, however, were not English; like many men in the growing land, they found work where they could. Honest, dishonest, it made no difference as long as they got paid. A jingle of coins in the pocket one day, gone the next if there was a tavern nearby. They had been working with the two Englishmen for about a month, a little longer than Yancy. Their jobs basically were to carry the surveying equipment for the Eliot brothers once they were at the site being surveyed.

Both Gaylord and Briggs were known around Boonesborough, not always the most honest of men, but never convicted of any serious crimes, just suspicious enough to make the hair on the back of Cincinnatus' neck stand on end.

The icy glare that had followed the four men back to their table now turned to Yancy Taylor, who sheepishly smiled at the tavern keeper.

"I told 'em, 'Natus. I told 'em you were having a special to-do here today. They said they would be on their best behavior. They're just going to play some cards, have a few drinks and not bother anybody."

Cincinnatus went behind the bar to draw the four rums.

"They better be, Yancy. You tell 'em we got women and children comin' here today. I don't want to hear any of that rowdy rum talk about savages or redskins like I heard before from their table. This is Mingo and Songbird and little Ken-tah-teh we're talkin' about."

Yancy went behind the bar, put his arm around his friend, and took hold of his beard.

"Don't you worry, Eeeooowww. Mingo is my friend too. I'll make sure they know." He picked up the tray holding the four mugs of rum. "Besides I'm kinda glad. I didn't want to miss Tah-teh's special day."

As Yancy delivered the drinks to Eliot and his men, the door opened and in came Rebecca, Jemima, Marie Crandall, and Sarah Taylor. They took over the two front tables closest to the fire, pushed them together to make one long table and began filling it with food and gifts.

"Good," Rebecca said, "Mingo and Songbird and the baby aren't here yet."

Cincinnatus put another log on the fire.

"No, Becky, but I expect they're on their way."

Mingo's long strides could make it easily from his lodge to Boonesborough in thirty minutes. Walking with his family would take a little longer. Songbird was a strong woman and did well in keeping up with her husband. Taking turns carrying a little warrior who watched and listened and pointed and asked about everything around him tended to make their journey a bit longer. It would be an hour's walk or longer for Mingo and his family. But the new parents didn't mind, for they loved the land they named their son after and loved sharing it with him.

Overhead the sun was shining, but not enough to warm the winter air. The ground was still frozen, but dry and bare. Ken-tah-teh insisted on walking between his parents, holding on to their hands. But it wasn't long until his little legs began to tire.

"Tah-teh up," his arms went up to his father.

Handing his rifle to Songbird, Mingo growled as he picked him up.

"Come here, you little bear cub. Wait until Eeeooowww sees your new coat. Can you growl for Eeeooowww?"

A little growl came from the hooded face. Within minutes Ken-tah-teh's head lay on Mingo's shoulder. In the safety of his father's arms, the baby was lulled to sleep by the gentle song his parents sang to him.

"Sleep well, young Ken-tah-teh,  
Named for the Promised Land.  
Sleep well and sweet dreams,  
For our brave little man.

Rest well, Little Warrior,  
So you will grow strong.  
We'll keep you safe and warm,  
And sing you a sleeping song."

"We are almost halfway there," Mingo said to Songbird. "Why don't we stop here for a drink and rest for a few minutes?"

She leaned Mingo's rifle against a big log and took off the empty cradle board she had been carrying on her back. Mingo placed the sleeping baby in it and leaned it on the log as well.

"I think he has gotten too big for the cradle board," Mingo said. "I will carry him the rest of the way so he can sleep."

Songbird sat down on the log next to the baby. Mingo picked up his rifle and sat down next to his wife. He handed her the water pouch. She took a drink and handed it back to him.

"It is good that he sleeps now," Songbird said, "He will be in good spirits for his special time."

Mingo leaned his rifle against the log and took a drink of the water. He put the pouch back in his pack and stretched his arms and legs out in front of him.

"We have a lot of time," he said pointing to the sun. "Daniel said midday and it is two hours until then. It would not be in good taste to arrive too early, you know."

Songbird leered at him. "What is my husband suggesting we do, to not arrive too early?"

Mingo leaned back listening to the snoring baby, and then leaned forward wearing a familiar smile.

"Well, if my wife is tired, I could spread out my blanket right here on the ground and we could take a little rest of our own."

"Mingo," she said coyly.

"You know, Songbird, it is not often that we are alone together while he sleeps."

She stretched her arms out in front of her and smiled.

"We are alone together every night while he sleeps."

Mingo rolled his eyes, "Yes, and he sleeps between us in the same bed."

Songbird looked away, feigning disappointment.

"Is my husband saying that our son should not be sleeping in our bed with us, but in the other bed, cold and all alone?"

Mingo stood up, his arms across his chest.

"Now Songbird, you know very well there is no other place I want Ken-tah-teh to sleep than with us in our bed….until the time when he is old enough and wants to sleep in a bed of his own."

The Choctaw woman stood and faced him.

"And maybe by then there will be another little one sleeping in our bed with us."

Mingo's eyes dropped to the blue and white blanket rolled tightly by his pack.

"Hmmmm, I wonder?" he smiled, now joining in her teasing.

Songbird took his crossed hands from his chest and put them around her neck. She leaned in close, wrapping her arms around him.

"Do not wonder, my husband, it will happen," she spoke softly. "The Great Spirit will send us many children." Then she looked into his dark eyes. "But today is our son's day, our firstborn son's day. Today we celebrate with our good friends at Boonesborough who we do not want to keep waiting."

Mingo pressed his lips to hers. They held each other close for a moment, and then looked at their sleeping son.

"I guess we had better get back on the trail," he said and handed Songbird his rifle. He took Ken-tah-teh out of the cradle board. "Come, Little Warrior, Papa will carry you. Mama will protect her men."

Mingo held on to the rifle and the baby while Songbird put the empty cradle board on her back. Then she took back the rifle, his powder and shot and they were on their way. Ken-tah-teh opened his eyes for a moment, and then laid his head back down on Mingo's shoulder. Dropping off to sleep once more, he did not wake up until they approached the gates of Boonesborough.

Mingo waved to the guard on the wall of the Fort. Seconds later the big gate swung open and welcomed them in.

He made certain Songbird was close by him as he looked to see if any strangers were around that might not be comfortable with Indians in the Fort. He didn't see any.

Ken-tah-teh's head turned in every direction. This was more people gathered in one place than he had seen since his last visit. Every horse he saw he pointed out to his parents,

"Po," he said.

"Po-nee," his father tried correcting him.

"Po?" the baby said again.

"No, Ken-tah-teh, say Po-nee," Mingo tried again.

"Po?" the baby pointed straight ahead. Then Mingo realized who he wanted his father to see. Coming toward them were Daniel and Israel Boone, wearing identical grins on their faces. Israel reached them first.

"Hi, Ken-tah-teh, Happy Birthday!"

Recognizing Israel, the baby pointed to the littlest Boone.

"Hi, Songbird, hi, Mingo," Israel continued.

"Hello, Israel," they both answered.

''Well now, would you look at you?" Daniel finally caught up with them. "Tah-teh, I declare you're going to be taller than me and your Papa."

The baby began to wriggle and squirm as Daniel put out his arms.

"Po. Po," Ken-tah-teh said again.

Mingo let him go to Daniel.

"So that's the 'Po' you wanted me to see, Ken-tah-teh."

It was evident the baby was comfortable in the other big man's arms. He pointed to Israel.

"That's Israel," Daniel told him. The baby pointed again. "Israel," Daniel repeated. "My boy."

"Boy?" Ken-tah-teh asked.

Daniel smiled, "Yes, my boy. Like you are your Papa's boy."

The baby pointed to Mingo, "Papa."

Daniel laughed, "Mingo, he talks more than you do. Then again that ain't sayin' much. You bein' a man of few words." Daniel winked at Songbird.

Mingo had taken his rifle, powder and shot back from Songbird.

"Now you have done it, Daniel. Now he will call Israel 'Boy' until he learns his correct name." Mingo stated.

Israel was standing in front of Songbird, her hands were on his shoulders.

"That's okay, he can call me 'Boy,' "Israel answered.

"Boy," the baby repeated.

Daniel turned to Songbird,

"And who is that?"

Ken-tah-teh pointed, "Mama," he assured Daniel, who grinned at the proud mother.  
"You sure are a smart boy, Tah-teh."

The big man gently poked the little nose that was inside the furry hood.

"Tah-teh, are you in there?"

To which the baby grabbed Daniel's nose and exclaimed,

"Nose."

Now it was Mingo's turn and he couldn't hide his delight.

"Oh, Daniel, we should have warned you. That is one of his favorite games."

They had reached the door of the tavern.

"Come on, Tah-teh," Daniel said, "There are a lot of people inside waiting to see how big you've gotten since one year ago ."


	3. Chapters 9 to 11

Ken-tah-teh, A Promise.

**Chapter 9**

They're here! They're here!"

The tavern door seemed to shout as it flew open. The real culprit was Israel Boone announcing the arrival of the birthday guests. He almost knocked over his mother and sister as they waited with the rest of the party.

Songbird entered first, then Mingo who bent down to keep from losing his feathers in the doorway. Daniel followed, doing the same as Mingo and carrying the bundled up Ken-tah-teh. The little group's cheers and hand-clapping took Ken-tah-teh by surprise. In the unfamiliar surroundings, he reached out for his father. Daniel handed him to Mingo. The baby held on tight and buried his face in Mingo's neck.

"Awwww, the poor little thing," the mothers all sighed together.

Mingo looked like he was carrying a little bear cub as he walked slowly to the bar. He patted his baby boy's back while talking low to him.

"Shh, shh. You are all right, Ken-tah-teh. You know all your friends who are here."

Mingo sat him up on the empty bar, holding tight to him. Songbird untied the hood and slipped it off his head revealing thick, black locks. She brushed the hair out of his eyes and one big tear drop lay on his cheek. Israel started toward them, but Becky held him back.

"Wait, Israel, give him time to get used to all of us."

Mingo wiped the tear away and began to go through all the names of the people there as called by the baby.

"Look, Ken-tah-teh, there's Kee," Mingo pointed to Becky, who waved.

"Hello, Ken-tah-teh," she said softly.

Mingo smiled, he knew she was just itching to hold his son.

"Kee?" The baby repeated, his little finger barely visible in his coat sleeve, as he pointed to her.

"Yes, and there's Mya," Mingo nodded toward Jemima who also waved.

"Mya?" the baby pointed again.

"Yes, and there's Israel,"

"Boy, Mingo! He calls me Boy! Ain't that right, Ken-tah-teh?" Israel remarked loudly.  
The hint of a smile began to show on the baby's face.

"Boy," he said.

Mingo kept pointing to all the men and women around the table, which was covered with food and gifts wrapped in brown paper.

"And there's Tupper, and Isaac, and Yancy."

Ken-tah-teh watched as they all waved to him.

"Cee?" He said when Yancy winked at him.

"And who is that?" Mingo pointed to Daniel.  
"Po!" the baby answered boldly, a sign he was beginning to feel more at ease.

"Atta boy, Tah-teh," Daniel nodded.

Songbird began to undo his coat when Mingo noticed Cincinnatus coming out of the back room.

"Ken-tah-teh," Mingo whispered. "Look who is trying to sneak up on you."  
He turned the baby so he could see.

"Well now, Songbird and Mingo, where did you get that little bear cub?" Cincinnatus asked. "Oh, it's you, Ken-tah-teh."

The older man leaned in close so the baby could grab his beard, which he did.

"Eeeooowww!" Cincinnatus squealed much to Ken-tah-teh's delight. It was a game they played. Songbird finished taking off the baby's coat.

"My goodness, Ken-tah-teh, look how you have grown. You're gonna be as tall as your Papa in no time," Cincinnatus remarked, and then turned to Songbird. "And how is Mama?"

"I am good, Cincinnatus, thank you. How are you?"

The tavern-keeper clapped his hands together.  
"Fine and dandy now that you're here."

Rebecca Boone interrupted,

"Songbird, you must be tired and cold from your long walk. Why don't you and Ken-tah-teh come and join us by the fire?

Mingo nodded at Songbird and moved aside so the red head could get closer to the baby who was still sitting on the bar.

"Hello Ken-tah-teh," she spoke softly and put out her hands. "Would you and Mama like to come sit by the fire and get warm? There are a lot of people who are waiting to see you."

Ken-tah-teh willingly reached out for Rebecca, who scooped him up in her arms.

"Oh, my, how you've grown since I saw you last," Becky told him.

She walked slowly so Ken-tah-teh could see his mother who followed close behind.  
"Come let's see who is here,"

Rebecca sat down with the baby on her lap. Songbird sat down beside them.

"Jemima," Becky said, "Why don't you get Songbird a cup of tea?"  
The young lady did so.

"Thank you, Jemima," Songbird told her.

It didn't take long for the baby to become the center of attention. And he was loving every minute of it. The men were at the bar watching the festivities.

"Looky there, Dan'l," Cincinnatus pointed from behind the bar. "Ken-tah-teh is just like his father, lettin' all those womenfolk fuss over him."

Mingo nodded, "He knows a good woman when he sees one. And it just so happens at this stage in his life he has several to contend with."

Yancy stood between Isaac and Tupper, next to Mingo and Daniel.

"It don't look to me like Tah-teh is havin' any trouble contendin' with those womenfolk," Yancy said. "Looks to me like those womenfolk are havin' a problem decidin' whose turn it is to hold the little feller."

All the men laughed in agreement.

"I think you're right, Yancy," Cincinnatus said.

Behind the bar, Jericho had just brought out a full keg of rum from the backroom. He was about to take the empty keg back when Cameron Eliot approached and set four empty tankards on the bar. By habit, Cincinnatus turned to wait on his customer.

"I'll get him, Cincinnatus," Jericho said, and started refilling the mugs.

"Thank you, Jericho," Cincinnatus nodded to Eliot who nodded back, as the first rum-filled mug was put on the bar. The tavern-keeper turned back to his friends leaning on the bar and cleared his throat.

"So, Mingo, does your father know about your family?"

The Cherokee man was a private person, but the ales shared among the group of friends had loosened up the conversation. Mingo leaned forward, both elbows on the bar.

"I don't imagine the marriage between two Indians in the Kentucky wilderness and the birth of their son would be news that might cross the desk of the esteemed Governor General of Virginia."

Mingo could see by the scowl on Cincinnatus' face that he was not happy with the long-winded answer he got to his question. He smiled at his friend.

"No, Cincinnatus, I do not believe my father knows anything about his grandson or my wife. How would he?"  
Just as Mingo asked his question, Jericho placed the last of the four mugs of rum on the bar in front of Eliot with a thud. All the men looked over at the young "bartender."

"Sorry," he said sheepishly and turned to his customer. "Sorry, sir. Let me help you carry them back to your table."  
Eliot easily picked up the four mugs,

"No need," he said and looked at the rest of the men at the bar. "Gentlemen," he nodded, and joined his friends at their table in the back.

Mingo turned back to Cincinnatus, who had conveniently moved down to Daniel, inquiring if he needed another ale. Daniel shook his head no. Isaac did the same when asked.

"I'll take another ale, Cincinnatus," Tupper said hopefully.

"You'll get another ale when you have paid for all the ales you drank last month!"  
Looking Mingo in the eye, Cincinnatus continued,

"How about you, Mingo? Ready for another?"

The tavern-keeper drew another ale without hearing his customer's answer. He put the full tankard down on the bar in front of the Cherokee.

"No, thank you, Cincinnatus," Mingo answered and slid the mug toward Tupper, who snatched it up before the bartender could take it back. Cincinnatus' scowl turned to a sheepish grin when he turned back to Mingo.

"Cincinnatus, why do you look like Isaac's cat that swallowed his wife's pet bluebird? What do you know that the rest of us here do not?"

With no small twigs around for Mingo to break in half, he nervously began tapping his long fingers on the bar.

"Funny you should mention a cat, Mingo," Cincinnatus said, his voice echoing into the almost empty tankard of ale in front of him. No response came from any of the men at the bar, except the tapping of Mingo's fingers.

The tavern-keeper continued,

" I sort of let that cat out of the bag so to speak."

"Yes?" Mingo's voice had an uneasy and curious tone to it.

"Well, I was in Williamsburg a while back and I happened to pass by the Governor's Palace."

Mingo's fingers were still tapping.

"You just happened to pass by the Governor's Palace?" The Cherokee asked.

"Well," Cincinnatus' voice was an octave higher than normal. "Actually, I didn't just happen to pass by. I was making a delivery, you might say."

Mingo looked at the other five men at the bar. They were as interested as he was.

"You were making a delivery-to the Governor General of Virginia's palace in  
Williamsburg?"

Cincinnatus sat his tankard down hard.

"Now, dad burn it, Mingo, are you gonna keep interruptin' me, or are you gonna let me tell you what I'm tryin' to tell you?"

"Yeah, Mingo, quit interruptin'," Daniel chided. "I wanna hear this too."

The Cherokee rolled his eyes at his tall friend.

"Please, Cincinnatus, by all means continue," Mingo said.

The older man nodded at them all.  
"Thank you. Now like I was sayin', I was makin' a delivery to the Palace…"

But the temptation was just too great for Mingo where his father was concerned.

"Just what, may I ask, were you delivering to my father's palace?"

The tavern-keeper eyed him in disgust.

"Sorry, Cincinnatus. I do apologize, please go on."

"If you must know, I was deliverin' a half dozen kegs of my Kentucky Blue Thunder to the Governor-your father. He took a likin' to it that day we marched on down there, took over the Palace and got our rightful ownership of Kentucky back."

The tapping stopped as Mingo now looked Cincinnatus in the eye.

"You mean to say that my father, the eminent Lord Dunsmore, takes delivery of your Blue Thunder?"

"Kentucky Blue Thunder!" Cincinnatus added curtly. "And why not? It's one of the best libations this side of the Atlantic Ocean."

"Oh," Mingo held up his hands, "Of that I have no doubt," and looked at the rest of the group trying to hide their grinning faces. "And did my father pay you for this libation?"

"Well, 'course he did," the tavern-keeper answered. "He may be British, but he ain't no thief."

"And just how much did he pay you, Cincinnatus, if I may inquire?" Mingo asked him.

"Well, it was more of a business venture-a trade you might say, "Cincinnatus answered, stroking his beard in victory.  
"All right then, what did my father give you in exchange?"

"If you must know, Mingo, he keeps me supplied with that fancy black tea you're so fond of."

The Cherokee looked at the other five men in astonishment.

"What do you know about that?"

"Hmmph, that's right," Cincinnatus said and started toward the back room.

"Wait a minute," Tupper said, after making sure there was no ale left in his tankard.

"What now, Tupper?" Cincinnatus turned back to the bar.

"What happened to the cat?"

"What cat?" The tavern-keeper growled.

Tupper looked at the rest of them,  
"That cat you let out of the bag. Did it get away?"

Mingo slapped his friend on the back.

"Thank you, Tupper. I had almost forgotten about that cat."

He turned to the tavern-keeper, who grabbed the empty mug from Tupper's hand.

"Yes, Cincinnatus, what about that cat?"

"Yeah, Cincinnatus," Daniel added. "I'd kinda like to know what happened to that cat myself."

"Oh you would now, would you, Dan'l?" He turned to his Cherokee friend,

"Mingo, I may have mentioned to your father about Songbird and Ken-tah-teh."

"May have?" Mingo smiled.

"Well, we was testin' the Blue Thunder, me and the Governor General, like we always do and well…."

Cincinnatus looked over at Songbird and Ken-tah-teh and then back to Mingo.

"There was no 'may have' about it. Doggone it, he's Ken-tah-teh's grandpa and Songbird is his son's wife and I just thought he needed to know about them and how special they are. And that's all there is to it!"

Mingo always had mixed emotions about his father, but he knew how Cincinnatus felt about Songbird and Ken-tah-teh.

"I'm sorry, Mingo," Cincinnatus said.

"No need to be sorry, 'Eeeooww'," Mingo added. "I suppose my father has some right, blood wise to know. And it makes no matter. I do not foresee the Governor General of Virginia traveling to the Kentucky wilderness to see a Choctaw-Cherokee baby."

"Excuse me," a woman's voice broke into their conversation. "Excuse me, but would you gentlemen like to join our party?"

The men all turned to see a familiar sight. Rebecca Boone standing with her hands on her hips. Daniel Boone was the first to respond.

"Why yes ma'am, we would," and he quickly joined his family at the table. Yancy, Mingo, and Isaac all sat down by their wives. Jericho and Tupper joined them as well. In the middle of the table were two big maple cakes and at one end were several packages wrapped in brown paper.

"Hurry up, Cincinnatus!" Israel had waited long enough.

"I'll be right there, Israel," the tavern-keeper put on a big pot of coffee. Instinctively he took a quick look at his customers in the back. They were talking and didn't look like they needed anything for the moment.

"Okay, Israel, I'm coming," the older man joined his friends at the big table in front of the hearth for a special celebration.

At their back table, John Eliot, Reese Gaylord, and Simon Briggs waited for their drinks.

"Well now, what do you think about that?" Cam Eliot asked, as he sat down by his older brother and distributed the four tankards of rum.

"That Indian friend of Boone's and Yancy's, who do you think his father is?"

John Eliot took his rum,

"Now, how would you expect me to know the name of some savage's father? And more importantly, why would you think that I or anyone at this table would care?"

The younger Eliot wiped the excess rum off of his upper lip. "Oh, I think you would like to know this name. In fact, dear brother, I am certain of it."

And he took another swallow of rum.

John Eliot was not a patient man especially, when his younger brother rambled on like this.

"All right then, Cameron, what is the name?"

Cameron Eliot smiled and took another swig of rum.

The older Eliot peered out over his own mug of rum with a look that usually let the younger Eliot know he'd had enough. Cameron leaned in and quietly announced, "John Murray, or Lord Dunsmore, the Governor General of Virginia, as he is known over here."

"You're daft," John remarked.

"Lord Dunsmore," Cameron repeated. "That's what Cincinnatus said when he asked the Indian if his father knew about that baby. And the Indian did not deny it."

The older Englishman stroked his beard as he watched Mingo at the table with the others. Gaylord and Briggs reached for their drinks.

"Do you two know anything about that Indian?"

"I know he's a half-breed," Gaylord answered. "And he and Boone are blood brothers, close like family."

"What about you?" John looked at Briggs.

"I heard his mother was a Cherokee princess."

"Princess?" Cameron laughed.

"Over here," Briggs went on, "the sister or daughter of the Chief of a tribe is known as a Princess."  
"Indian royalty as it were," John Eliot added.

" I guess," Briggs continued. "From what I understand, his mother died when he was just a boy. And his father, an Englishman over here surveying for the Crown, took him back to England. London, I think I heard someone say. That's where he was educated. Rumor is he and his father don't get along very well."

John Eliot continued to stare at Mingo.

Gaylord chuckled, "Ain't you never heard him talk? His fancy tongue don't sound like any redskin around these parts. Why, he talks prettier than the two of you."

John looked at his brother who wore a glowing smile on his face.

"I told you, you would want to know his name," Cameron said.

The older Eliot swallowed the drink of rum he had taken.

"So that is John Murray's bastard savage offspring," he muttered.

Cameron nodded, "And that Indian baby would be John Murray's grandson."

John Eliot nodded back.

"John Murray," Briggs said. "Who is John Murray?"

"Lord Dunsmore to you," John Eliot answered. "The aforementioned Governor General of Virginia."  
"Sounds like you know him?" Gaylord added.

"We used to," John answered. "We used to."

The two Colonials sat waiting for the rest of the story. John Eliot could see the interest on their faces. He reached over and slapped his brother on the back.

"Brother Cameron, we don't have anywhere else to go this day. Why don't we enlighten our two associates?"  
"It was about twenty years ago in London," John said. "We were surveyors in the service of Britain's Royal Army. At the same time Lord Dunsmore hired us to survey a parcel of land on his estate. He was planning to build an addition to his already lavish mansion."

"Why didn't he do it himself? Wasn't he a surveyor too?"

John looked at his brother who was shaking his head.

"My good Mr. Briggs," he said. "Surveying was now beneath John Murray, Earl of Dunsmore." He saw they had no idea of title. "Again, Lord Dunsmore to you."

Cameron Eliot started to explain, "John Murray is his given name, but his title is…"

His older brother stopped him, "Never mind explaining to them the details of the English social classes. It would take too long. I think they understand Lord Dunsmore is a very influential man, then and now."

The two colonials nodded yes.

"To continue," John said, "while we were surveying for Dunsmore it happened that one of his two prize Arabian stallions was stolen."

"Along with two very fine riding saddles," Cam added boastfully, while his brother eyed him in disgust.

Cameron cleared his throat, "At least, that is what we heard."

John continued, "Of course, we being the only two strangers on the grounds at the time, Dunsmore accused us of the theft."

Reese Gaylord pushed his empty tankard to the middle of the table.

"And did you? Steal the horse and the saddles?"

Haughtily the older Eliot placed his empty tankard next to Gaylord's.  
"Would you like me to continue, or are you going to keep asking foolish questions?"

Gaylord looked at Briggs, shrugged his shoulders then looked at Eliot.

"For the record, the horse and saddles were never recovered. And the authorities were unable to find any evidence against us, so we were released."

A third empty tankard was placed next to the other two. Simon Briggs crossed his hands and put them on the table in front of him.

"Well, foolish question or not, I'm going to ask. Why then are you surveying over here in the wilderness of the colonies, and for the Continental Army?"

Cameron Eliot completed the set of four drained tankards sitting in the middle of the table.

"Because…" John Eliot looked up at the group of friends celebrating a birthday. "…Lord Dunsmore did not believe that we were innocent, although he was not able to have us thrown in prison. With his many connections and rank in the British Royal Army, he had us dishonorably discharged. Nothing to show for our years of service, but a slap in the face and a mark on our records for life."

He looked up at Mingo again and muttered under his breath,

"Who would ever have imagined, Lord Dunsmore, that twenty years later our paths would cross again? And your son and grandson right in the middle."

Steam began rising out of the big coffee pot Cincinnatus had placed on the fire. He rescued it and turned to the group.

"Who wants hot coffee?" All who held up their hands received a cup of the fresh brew. "Becky, that's an awful lot of cake you have there."

As Rebecca cut the cake, Jemima made sure everyone at the table had a slice.

"Well, Cincinnatus, we needed two cakes. We are celebrating two birthdays today, you know," Becky said.

The older man's face lit up. It was obvious he didn't think anyone had remembered it was his birthday too.  
Ken-tah-teh sat on Songbird's lap, playing with the plate and spoon on the table in front of him. When he saw Mingo coming toward him, up went his arms.

"Papa."

Mingo sat down beside them and took the baby.

"Yes, Ken-tah-teh, you had better tell Eeeooww to come sit with you. I do believe that this birthday celebration is for him as well.

But the baby was busy with the piece of cake Jemima had just given him. Cincinnatus made sure everyone had their cups filled with whatever they were drinking. Then he came and sat across from Mingo and his family.

"Happy Birthday, Cincinnatus," Songbird smiled at him.

"Why, thank you kindly, Songbird. Thank you, everybody. You make an old man feel real special. How about it, Ken-tah-teh?" He cackled when he saw the baby's face and hands covered in icing. "I think you got the right idea, Tah-teh. Let's eat some of this fine cake that Becky and Jemima baked."

Both of the birthday men had gifts from everyone.

All the women present, Jemima included, worked many hours on a beautiful patchwork quilt for Cincinnatus. Mingo and Songbird gave him a new knife with his initials on the bone handle. And Songbird made him a handsome leather sheath for it.

"Ladies," Cincinnatus stood up, "I can't wait to cover up tonight with this. And Songbird and Mingo, I've never had such a fine knife and sheath." The older man wiped a tear from his eye. "This sure has been a special birthday, but what really makes it special-for me is that I can share it with Ken-tah-teh there."

He turned to look at the baby, but Ken-tah-teh was busy with his own gifts. Jemima had knitted him a new pair of mittens and Rebecca, a matching scarf. Yancy and his family promised him the pick of the litter when their dog, Maggie had her pups in a few weeks.

Isaac and Marie, Tupper and Jericho, and Cincinnatus all joined together to make Ken-tah-teh a rocking chair, just his size, or "big enough for Tah-teh to grow in to," Cincinnatus remarked. He and Tupper and Jericho cut the wood. Isaac built the chair and Marie sewed the cushion to go on it. Mingo sat the baby in the chair, but he squirmed and pointed to get out. It was quite evident to the Cherokee man what his son's favorite gift was.

Together Daniel and Israel had fashioned a toy pony out of oak wood. The tail and mane were made out of real horse hair they borrowed from Yancy's mare, Sally. It was twelve inches from nose to tail, and stood six inches from its rump to the floor. Cincinnatus had some scraps from a torn Indian blanket he gave them for a saddle and a small bit of brown twine for a halter.

"Po-nee," Mingo heard his son exclaim as Israel helped him with the brown paper that the package was wrapped in. He sat down by Songbird, who held the baby in her lap. Israel started to back away, Mingo put his arm around him and pulled him close.

"Ken-tah-teh, what did Israel make for you?"

"Po-nee," the baby repeated, holding it tight.

"A very fine pony," Mingo said. "Thank you, Israel."

A wide smile showed on the youngest Boone's face.

"Pa helped me," he said, looking at Daniel who winked at him.

"Well, you both did a very fine job," Mingo squeezed him tight and whispered in his ear. "And just between you and me, Israel, I do believe it is Ken-tah-teh's favorite gift."

Rebecca had told Mingo what Israel was worried about.

"You know, Israel, I am depending on your help, when I begin to teach Ken-tah-teh how to hunt and fish. Do you think you will be able to help me?"

The little boy's face lit up like the flames in the fireplace. He nodded yes to the Cherokee.

"Good," Mingo answered and patted Israel's behind. "Now let's get another piece of cake before your father and Cincinnatus eat it all."

The little celebration lasted just over four hours. The sun was sinking lower and lower in the sky, but they could not convince Mingo and his family to stay the night.

"Plenty of room in the tavern," Cincinnatus offered. But the four white strangers made Mingo uneasy. Not for himself so much, the Cherokee was used to the insulting remarks of the white man. But Mingo was not about to subject his family to that.

"Thank you very much, Cincinnatus, but we will be fine." They had offers from the Taylors and the Boones as well.  
"Really, Rebecca, we will be fine. Songbird and I thought we would show Ken-tah-teh Wild Geese Lake. Besides, Daniel, it has been a few months since we have been there. I had better make certain all is well with our lean-to."

"You sure, Mingo?" Daniel asked. "You got a mite more to carry home with all those presents and all that food the womenfolk packed up for you."

Their sacks were full of leftovers from the celebration.

"I could take some of that extra maple cake off your hands if you like," the big man said.  
"Dan!" Rebecca shouted.

"No, Daniel. That is quite all right. I am certain we can manage. Tupper is lending us one of his pack mules for the journey home."

Songbird finished dressing Ken-tah-teh in his bearskin coat. The baby had long since fallen asleep. She turned to the small group.

"I want to thank all of you for making this day very special for our son."

She leaned over and kissed Cincinnatus on the cheek.

"Happy Birthday, Cincinnatus," she whispered. "It will always be an honor for Ken-tah-teh, to share his day of birth with you."

"Thank you, Songbird," was all the older man could manage, as tears welled up in his eyes and a lump grew in his throat for the second time today.

Outside of the tavern, Mingo had just completed packing the mule with their goods. Songbird joined him carrying the sleeping baby. Mingo slapped Tupper on the back.

"Thank you again, Tupper. Let's just hope Ken-tah-teh sleeps all the way to the lake. Otherwise, if he wakes up and sees your mule I have a feeling I will become the pack animal. For he will surely have to ride her the rest of the way home."

Tupper laughed as did all the rest of their friends who had come outside to say goodbye. They all waved as Mingo and his family passed through the gate of the fort, on their way to Wild Geese Lake.

The last shadows of the February sunset lit their trail to the little lake. By dark Mingo had a big fire burning. The lean-to was safe and in tact. Even though the sky was clear and full of stars and the air cold, Mingo, Songbird, and their one year old son would be safe and warm.

Ken-tah-teh woke up long enough for Songbird to feed him. While she nursed him, Mingo fed and tethered the mule for the night. When he came back to the lean-to, his family was waiting for him under their blanket.

"Come to bed with us, Mingo," Songbird said. He added some more wood to the fire. By the time he joined them under the blanket the baby could barely keep his eyes open.

"You had a big day didn't you Ken-tah-teh?" Mingo said as he climbed in under the blanket with them. He kissed the baby, who had already fallen back to sleep.

"It was a good day," Songbird said to her husband.

Mingo nodded. "It was a very good day, almost as good as this day was one year ago." He leaned over and kissed her.

She began to laugh.

"What did I say that is so humorous?" He asked, crossing his arms on his chest.

"If I recall you were not the most happy on that day," She answered, "but very, very nervous."

Mingo leaned back against the tree and closed his eyes for a moment. A smile came across his handsome face as he opened his eyes and took her hand in his.

"I have never told you this, Songbird, but I never saw myself as being a married man, much less being a father." He squeezed her hand tighter. "I am not certain why, maybe being two different cultures mixed in one person. Maybe I didn't want to have someone I loved faced with the same difficulties I have had to face because of my mixed blood."  
He took her other hand in his,

"But there you were, in that field of wildflowers, scaring my buck away, while laughing at me because you had never seen a Cherokee warrior kneeling among the daisies before."

She put her hand over her mouth to hide a grin, but he took it back into his hand.

"I took one look at you, and I was smitten."

"Smitten?" She asked innocently.

"Smitten," Mingo nodded. "In love. I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, to raise a family and make a home with you, if you would have me."

He let go of one of her hands, and put it on their sleeping son's forehead, brushing the black locks out of his eyes.  
"And look at me now, a husband and a father," He smiled at her. "You were right, Songbird, I was very, very nervous that day. I am still nervous, but it is a nervous I would not trade for anything."

She reached up and brushed the black locks out of her husband's eyes.

"You are a good husband, and a good father. I see the love in his eyes every time he looks at you." She leaned over and kissed him on the lips. "And I too was smitten with you the first time I saw you. We will have many children and a home together for as long as the Great Spirit allows us to."

"I love you," Mingo told her.

"And I love you," She repeated.

The crackling of the burning wood in the fire echoed across Wild Geese Lake. In a matter of a few minutes Ken-tah-teh's Mama and Papa joined him in a good night's sleep.

At the first morning call of a blue jay in the pine tree overhead, the one year old was awake. And Mingo was right, as soon as he saw Tupper's pack mule, the baby cared about nothing else.

'Po-nee, Po-nee," Ken-tah-teh repeated all through their morning meal and the entire time his father readied the pack mule for the rest of their journey home.

With Ken-tah-teh's new rocking chair in one hand, Mingo slung his rifle over his shoulder and took the animal's lead rope in his other hand. He looked at Songbird who was carrying the baby.

"Po-nee, Po-nee," he pointed to the mule.

"We will never hear the end of this if we don't let him ride you know," Mingo said.

"You are a wise man, Papa," Songbird answered and sat Ken-tah-teh on the back of the mule on top of the packs. The mule not being as tall as a normal riding horse, Songbird was able to walk along side and hold onto her baby who beamed in delight.

Mingo could see Ken-tah-teh was going to be a natural rider. For lack of a bridle and reins, the baby held onto the mane of the mule. It was a happy ride home for the little boy who had just turned one year old.

**Chapter 10**

The last few days of April, 1776, brought warm and rainy days to the wilderness of Kentucky. Young saplings, now one year older, spread wide their branches, competing for the warmth of the sun with the giant oaks and elms towering over them.

Two figures walked slowly, side by side through the underbrush. Armed with their bows, Young Raven and Little Badger set out to prove their prowess as hunters. Among their Choctaw brothers they were the youngest of the braves. To bring a fresh kill of bear or deer back to their village would be recognition of their becoming men.  
The two of them grew up together, now young braves of fourteen summers. They set out this warm day to prove their worth. Young Raven was the taller of the two at six feet, long and lean with hair the blue-black color of a raven's wing. Little Badger, although two inches shorter, was built more solid and stronger than his friend, and a better shot.

Heading east along the Kentucky River, it was early morning. The two hunters were tracking a big white-tailed deer. Sunbeams filtered through the newly budding trees when Little Badger saw something move ahead of them. Young Raven saw it only seconds later.

Through the forest woven with blackberry bushes and saplings of maple and birch, stood two giant oak trees, side by side, about three hundred yards away. They could just make out the golden brown of a white tail deer on the trail that led to the two trees. Young Raven nodded as Little Badger raised his loaded bow. Slow and steady, the young Choctaw brave, normally a very good shot, pulled back and let the arrow fly. When he did, his foot slipped in some wet mud and the arrow did not follow the sure path he aimed for. At the same time, a rifle shot echoed through the woods and they saw the deer jerk on the impact of the lead ball.  
What they heard next unsettled both of them.

Heading west along the Kentucky River, two tall figures followed a familiar path. Daniel and Mingo met at Miller's Spring near Mingo's lodge around daybreak. It was often their meeting place when the two of them were going hunting whether for one day or several.

The sun was warm, the air fresh and clean, but the water of the Kentucky was still cold.

"Why don't you go on ahead, Mingo?" Daniel said, as he stepped out of the river he had just fallen into. His Cherokee brother was trying to hide an evil grin.

"Sorry, Daniel," Mingo said. "I thought you could see the riverbank was not going to hold you."

The big buckskin-clad man shivered and shook his head.

"My own fault lookin' for fish to smile at, already this spring."

He laid his rifle, powder horn, and pack on the ground.

"I best check Ticklicker and make sure her powder is dry, and me too. You go on ahead. I'll catch up directly."

Mingo nodded, "I'll go as far as Twin Oaks and get a fire going and the coffee. I certainly wouldn't want you catching pneumonia, seeing as how I won the bet."

Daniel had taken off his coonskin cap. It escaped getting wet, the only part of his attire that did.

"Bet! What bet?" He snapped.

"What bet?" Mingo crossed his arms across his chest as always. "Now, Daniel, you know very well that we have a standing wager, if you pardon the pun, each spring whoever of the two of us is first to fall into whatever body of water we may be traveling by, river, creek, pond, spring, or puddle, buys the other an evening of rum in the tavern."

Daniel was shaking out some of the excess water from his vest that he had taken off.

"You know, Mingo, now that you're a married man and all, with Songbird and little  
Tah-teh there, you really ought to think about not drinking so much rum like you do."

The all too familiar crooked grin on his face gave away his attempt to change the subject. But Mingo played right along.

"Well, then, Daniel Boone, what of yourself? Married man and father for much longer than I. What of the pints I have seen you consume in one evening?"

The big man put on his vest, still uncomfortably wet.

"Oh, well, Mingo, that's different."

"Different why?" Mingo asked him. "Would it be because it is a well-known fact that the red man cannot hold his firewater?"

Daniel fidgeted with the collar of his shirt as he answered.

"Now, that you mention it-yes."

Mingo laughed, "I will see you at Twin Oaks, Daniel," and turned up the trail.

"Mingo!" Daniel yelled.

The Cherokee looked back.

"Are you sure you didn't push me into that river?"

Mingo waved his friend off and kept going.  
"I will have the coffee ready, Daniel."

Twin Oaks, like Wild Geese Lake, was a favorite camping place for the two hunters. Close to the river, they had their choice of meat, fish, or fowl. A good watering spot for deer, and bear, and enough trees for turkey, pheasant, or grouse. And according to Cincinnatus, the best fishing hole in Kentucky was only minutes away from the campsite.  
Named for two tall oak trees growing side by side, there was just enough room between them for two tall hunters to stretch out for the night. And that is just what Daniel and Mingo did whenever they were hunting in this neck of the woods.

Mingo was still laughing to himself when he reached the two timber giants. Having gathered some firewood as he walked, he was just about to start the fire when the snort of a white-tail deer interrupted him. He knew the path it would take to the river for a drink. It wasn't long before the animal came in sight. Slowly Mingo picked up his rifle and leaned against one of the oaks, putting it between himself and his target. This big fellow would feed both of their families for a week. Even though there were no antlers this time of year, he knew by the height of the reddish-gold shoulders and width of its chest, it was a big buck.

The Cherokee took a deep breath, closed one eye, and took aim.

"Squeeze the trigger, don't pull it," he could hear Israel Boone remind him.

With the crack of his rifle, the familiar spark and cloud of smoke, the target went down. But at the same time, Mingo felt something was wrong, very wrong.

Luckily, his powder and shot was still dry. When Daniel felt himself slipping into the river he had successfully thrown it to the riverbank along with his rifle. Everything else, including himself was soaked, but good ol' Ticklicker and her fixin's were fine.

He decided to carry his vest instead of wearing it, hoping it would dry quicker. Slinging his pack, powder horn, and vest over his shoulder he picked up Ticklicker and headed toward Twin Oaks.

"If I play my cards right, Mingo will have the fire going, coffee brewing, and hopefully a rabbit or two cooking for supper," he thought to himself.

It was the better part of an hour before Daniel stopped for a drink. With the tops of the twin oaks in sight, he picked up the pace to a trot. When he heard a shot coming from just about where their camp would be, that trot turned into a gallop. Maybe that roasted rabbit had turned into a bear steak or venison chop.

Within fifteen minutes he reached the dead deer in the trail. In the direction of the two trees he could see Mingo's familiar turkey feathers.

"I don't smell any coffee," Daniel shouted.

As he approached his friend, he could see Mingo wasn't making any attempt to join him on the trail. The Cherokee just continued to lean against on of the big oaks.

"That buck ain't gonna clean and dress out itself. Anything wrong, Mingo?"

With a slight grimace in his voice, Mingo answered,

"No, nothing is wrong, Daniel except for this arrow that has me attached to this tree."

"Arrow!" the big man hurried to his friend's side and sure enough there was an arrow stuck in the trunk of the tree. It has also gone through the side of Mingo's vest, tearing into the buckskin material and just as Mingo had said, attached him to the tree.

"I don't know how you get yourself into these predicaments, Mingo," Daniel said.

Mingo rolled his eyes. "If you don't hurry up and get this arrow out of my shirt the only predicament we will be in is an enemy Indian torture rack."

Daniel handed his friend a loaded Ticklicker, as Mingo's empty rifle lay on the ground. He took hold of the arrow and started to pull on it and then stopped.

"Daniel, why did you stop?"

"You're bleedin', Mingo," he answered, pointing to the blood soaking through the side of his vest.

"I think it just nicked me. Would you please just get the arrow out so I can move?"

"All right," the big man said and with a quick jerk got the arrow out of the tree and Mingo's vest.

"Ahhh," Mingo winced lowly.

"Just a scratch, eh?" Daniel took hold of him. "Sit down here for a minute."

Mingo slid down to the ground, leaning against the wounded oak. Daniel bent down on one knee.

"Let me take a look."

Mingo took the arrow from him.

"Well it doesn't look Shawnee, but still I think we should be a little concerned about who shot it, don't you?"

Daniel looked around, "We've got plenty of cover for the moment. If it was a war party, they'd be on us by now. Probably just a couple of braves hunting and saw the same deer you did. We'll be able to hear them before they can get close to us." He took hold of Mingo's vest. "Now be still while I look at what you have done to yourself this time."  
The two men had been through more scrapes together than they cared to admit. Picking on each other and making fun was how they handled the pain, the danger, and the blood. Daniel tore open the whole side of Mingo's vest with one motion.

"Daniel, is it necessary to destroy my entire shirt?"

The big man shook his head.

"Oh, Songbird ain't goin' to like this," he murmured.

Mingo groaned, mimicking Daniel.

"Oh, I know she ain't goin' to like this. She just finished mending my trousers and now my shirt."

Daniel leaned back, "I wasn't referrin' to your shirt, Mingo. That ain't no little crease in your side. That arrow sliced a nice, big gash in your side, deep enough it wouldn't surprise me if it nicked a rib or two before attaching you to the tree."

The Cherokee rolled his eyes again.

"Daniel, don't you think that you are exaggerating a mite?" Mimicking his friend again.

Daniel barely touched Mingo's side, which was starting to show the signs of bruising. The Cherokee jerked and yelped.

"Ow," he said, wearing a sheepish grin. "Well, if you put it that way."

Daniel got the fire going and put some water on to boil while Mingo kept watch for any more arrows.

"Soon as I get that wound cleaned up, I'll bandage that rib up tight or you'll really be hurtin' by tonight." He reached for his pack, "Oh, oh," he mumbled.

"Oh, oh what?" Mingo clenched his teeth when he tried to move.

"All the bandages Becky put in my pack got soaked when you pushed me in the river."

Mingo shook his head at his friend's remark.

"Well, nothin' else to do but…" Daniel took out his knife and started toward a big willow tree.

"Oh, no, you don't, Daniel, not again," Mingo squirmed. "You are not going to wrap me up in the bark of that tree so that I look like a walking willow."

The big man pointed his knife at Mingo, shaking it as he spoke,

"As I recollect you were nearly skinned alive by your half brother, and close to the door of the Happy Hunting Ground. And me without my rifle or knife or pack because someone hit me over the head with the hilt of their bullwhip and took them. You were mighty happy to have that willow bark wrapped around you, easing the pain a bit."

Mingo knew his friend was right.

"Well, that was then, and this is now."

He motioned to where his weapon belt and pack lay on the ground.

"In my pack," he said.

Daniel eased over to Mingo's pack, keeping an eye out for any unexpected guests.

"Would you looky here," he said after opening the bag. He pulled out a big bundle of bandages held together by a leather tie. "I forgot you have your own good woman to take care of you, like my Becky."

Mingo nodded with a smile.

"And if I am not mistaken there should be some salve in there as well."

Daniel rooted around until he found a small rabbit-skin pouch.

"Yes, that's it."

Inside was a little covered pottery dish just big enough to fit in the palm of a man's hand. Daniel untied the tie that held the cover on and smelled the contents.

"Sassafras and clove I do believe?"

Mingo nodded in agreement.

"Wildflower's special recipe."

Daniel put the top back on it.

"Well if it don't help your side feel any better we can always spread it on our flapjacks in the morning."

The Cherokee chuckled just enough for that rib to let him know it was there.

"All right then," Daniel brought the hot water from the fire and cleaned the wound in Mingo's side. "Let's get that rib wrapped tight. Then you can rest up while I go take care of that buck."

Young Raven looked at his Choctaw brother,

"Little Badger, I have never heard a deer make such a noise when hit by an arrow."

Little Badger looked at the ground where his foot had slipped in the mud.

"It was not my arrow that killed the deer, but the rifle shot that we heard."

"And the sound?" Young Raven asked.

Little Badger slung his bow over his shoulder and motioned toward the trail where the buck went down.

"I am afraid my arrow may have hit whoever shot the rifle."

He began to run when Young Raven caught up with him.

"We must go slowly, Little Badger. We do not know if they are friend or enemy."

"You are right, Young Raven, but whether friend or enemy, if they are wounded it is the Choctaw way to help them."  
Young Raven nodded in agreement.

"But slowly," he said again. "There may be more than one of them."

The two young braves pressed on, slower and very watchful.

Daniel had finished gutting out the deer. It was a good-sized buck and would provide both of their families with a good supply of venison. No matter whose rifle ball actually killed the prey, when hunting together he and Mingo always shared the meat.

Lifting the deer across his shoulders, he planned to take it back to camp and hang it from one of the big oak trees. It would be easier to skin that way and he wanted to get back to Mingo. As he reached for Ticklicker, he realized he was not alone.

Two Indians stood on the trail between him and the path back to camp. Both had their bows aimed at him, but he could see that they were very young. And he thought he could see a bit of fear in their eyes.

Slowly he moved his hand away from his rifle on the ground. In this situation words might be the better weapon to try than lead.

"Hello. I reckon you come lookin' for this buck I'm carryin'. We figured someone would be comin' to claim it."  
He waited for any indication of whether the two braves understood him or not.

"I hate to give you some bad news, but this buck wasn't killed with your arrow. It was killed with my friend's…"  
"We heard the rifle shot," the brave on the right said lowering his bow. The brave on the left did the same. Daniel could see they were not Shawnee, but Choctaw. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Unfortunately your arrow did hit something," he adjusted the deer which was beginning to get very heavy on his shoulders. "It hit my friend who had shot the buck."

Daniel could see the look of concern on their faces.

"He'll be all right, I think. He's back at our camp between the Twin Oaks. I was just about to take this big fellow back there to skin."

"You are Daniel Boone," the brave on the left said.

Daniel was taken aback.

"Yes, sir, I am. Have we met before?"

"No," the brave answered. "You are friends with the husband of my cousin. I have seen you with him at our village, while visiting Chief Standing Bear, my cousin's father."

"Hmmm," Daniel queried. "Your cousin's husband wouldn't happen to be Cherokee would he?"

"Yes," the brave answered. "His name is…"

At that moment the sound of a flintlock rifle being cocked made all three men jerk at the same time.

"Mingo," Daniel smiled. He should have known his friend would be checking on him, wounded or not. He had been gone much too long just to take care of the deer.

"Daniel? Are you all right?" The Cherokee un-cocked his rifle.

"Why, Mingo, these two young gentlemen claim to know you. This one says he is Songbird's cousin." He pointed to the shorter of the two braves.

Mingo set the stock of his rifle on the ground and leaned on it like a crutch.

"Little Badger, Young Raven?" He grimaced, holding onto his side.

"Now, which is which?" Daniel asked.

The shorter of the two spoke first.

"I am Little Badger, this is Young Raven," He turned to Mingo. "It was my arrow that wounded you, Mingo. For that I am ashamed and very sorry."

"It was an accident, Little Badger, nothing more than that. And I will be fine, I assure you. You are quite a distance from your village. What are you doing way out here?"

"Young Raven and I were hunting and traveled farther than we had planned. I thought we would visit my cousin and her family as long as we had come this far."

"Songbird and Ken-tah-teh will be happy to see you," Mingo told him.

"I am not so certain," Little Badger added. "You are hurt badly, Mingo?"

"Not too badly," Mingo answered, but he could not hide the blood already showing on the bandage that Daniel had wrapped around his friend's ribcage.

"Ahem," Daniel abruptly joined in the conversation. "I'm gettin' kind of tired of wearin' this buck like a neck scarf."

Little Badger, maybe you could help Mingo, Young Raven, you can grab our rifles and we can commence headin' back to our camp. This buck needs skinnin' and Mingo's side looks like it needs tendin' again. You're welcome to share our camp for the night."

Little Badger reached Mingo and let him lean on him. Young Raven took the two rifles in hand and by sunset all four men sat warm around the fire enjoying some roasted venison. The two Choctaw braves skinned the buck while Daniel put a clean bandage on Mingo's side. The bleeding finally stopped and the wound was clean.

"That venison is mighty tasty if I do say so myself," Daniel said. "You boys help yourself to some more."  
They both shook their heads no.

"Mingo, how about you?"

The Cherokee was leaning against one of the big oaks.

"No, thank you, Daniel. I agree it was quite tasty. Amazing what a few wild onions will do to flavor some meat."

Daniel stood up and stretched, "Gonna be a nice night, but cool. I best go fetch some more wood for the fire. We'll get a good night's sleep and in the morning we'll pack up that venison and head home. You two boys can take some with you too."

Little Badger stood up next to Daniel, only coming to the big man's shoulder.

"That is very kind of you, Mr. Boone, but Young Raven and I plan to help you carry the venison back to your lodges."  
Daniel slapped the young man on the back almost knocking him over.

"That's right nice of you boys."

Little Badger continued, "I feel that I am to blame for Mingo being hurt."

Mingo spoke up, "Little Badger, it was an accident. No one is to blame and I can assure you that Songbird will not be angry. In fact, she will be very pleased to see you both."

"That's right, Little Badger, and besides it ain't every man who can say he shot a Cherokee and an oak tree with one arrow."  
The two braves looked at each other in confusion.

"Daniel, I don't think Little Badger and Young Raven appreciate or even understand your sense of humor," Mingo grinned.

"I do believe you are right, Mingo. I best get that fire wood."

Little Badger stepped in.

"No, Mr. Boone. You and Mingo have shared your food and fire with us. Young Raven and I will gather some firewood."

They disappeared into the darkness.

"I think you scared them away with your jokes, Daniel."

"You think so, Mingo?" Daniel answered as he sat down and leaned back against the other of the two twin oak trees. "No, I think they'll be back."

"How can you be so sure?" Mingo asked him.

Daniel motioned toward the fire,

"They left their bows and only took their tomahawks."

It wasn't long before the two young Indians returned with more than enough wood to keep the fire burning all night. Mingo was already asleep. With the loss of blood and a full stomach, he dropped off to sleep not long after they left. Daniel covered his friend up with his blanket.

"Thank, you boys. Now, you better get some rest yourselves."

With the fire roaring with warmth and light, Daniel, Young Raven, and Little Badger joined Mingo in a good night's sleep under the Twin Oaks.

Mingo being over two days late from a hunting trip with Daniel never worried Songbird. The two of them could have found a new fishing hole, or met up with old friends on the trail. She knew the time her husband spent with his blood brother was important for himself and for Kentucky.

This morning after their morning meal, she and Ken-tah-teh would finish their planting. The earlier their spring planting of the three sisters, corn, beans, and squash, the better the chance for a second planting and a second harvest.

"Well Ken-tah-teh, it looks like Papa is still hunting with Daniel today," she spoke to her son as she tried putting his little buckskin shirt on him.

"No," he answered, pushing it away. Youthful independence showing itself already.

"Now, Ken-tah-teh," her voice was sterner. "Inside our lodge where it is warm you may go without your shirt like Papa does. But if you want to go outside and help Mama plant today, you must wear your shirt."

As she spoke to him, she eased the shirt over his head. When the baby heard the word outside, the adamant 'no' became a yes. Ken-tah-teh loved to be out of doors, no matter what season it happened to be. Like Mingo, who could only stand a roof over his head for a short time, so did Ken-tah-teh. He was his father's son.

Overhead, the sun shone brightly. Songbird and Ken-tah-teh finished the planting and were washing by the rain barrel near the door of their lodge. Songbird was washing up; Ken-tah-teh was "splashing" up. A full wash basin of cold water was just too inviting. Finally she stopped the playing, took the soap and rubbed it on his wet hands.

"You must wash, Ken-tah-teh, after you did such a good job helping Mama plant."

"Mama help," he repeated.

She nodded, "Yes, now rub your hands together and wash them just like Papa does."

With the cloth next to the basin she dried her hands and then the baby's. He looked up at her.

"Papa?"

She knew what her son was thinking and kissed his little hands.

"You miss Papa, don't you? He will be home soon."

His baby eyes looked sad to her.

"Papa home?"

The Choctaw maiden picked up her baby.

"Let's go sit in our outdoor chairs that Papa made for us and have something to eat. The sun is so warm and we can listen to the birds singing."

She knew if he settled down for a few minutes, he would probably fall asleep. And she was right, an hour later he began to stir. She let him sleep in Mingo's chair while she made herself a cup of sassafras tea and finished some of her mending.

Ken-tah-teh opened his eyes and sat up, but made not a sound until she spoke to him.

"You had a good sleep? You worked so hard with Mama this morning."

He smiled, climbed down of Mingo's chair and came over to her.

"Papa home?'

She kissed the top of his head.

"Soon, Ken-tah-teh," she said.

"Papa home," he repeated, but this time it was not a question. He was looking down the trail to four approaching men. Songbird recognized all of them. Young Raven and Little Badger were in front carrying the deer on a pole between them. Daniel and Mingo followed. She wasn't sure how or why the two young braves from her village were with them, but it did not matter because Papa was home.

"Papa, Papa," the baby's voice got more excited. Mingo waved to him.

"All right, go to Papa."

He ran toward them as fast as his little legs could carry him, right past the two men in front to Mingo. Songbird could tell by the way her husband was walking that something was not right. The closer they got she could see he was holding onto his side. But she knew no matter what when Ken-tah-teh reached him, Mingo would pick him up. And she was right.

"There is my son," the Cherokee man said. Daniel took Mingo's rifle before the baby practically leaped into his father's arms. "How are you, Ken-tah-teh? Where is Papa's bear hug?"

The baby put his arms around Mingo's neck and growled.

"Grrrrr."

Daniel was the first to speak to Songbird as they approached her. Mingo and Ken-tah-teh showed the two braves where to hang the deer near the root cellar.

"Hello, Songbird."

She noticed that Mingo was not wearing his buckskin shirt under his coat. A bandage wrapped snuggly around his ribcage had blood on it where he had been holding his side.

"Hello, Daniel," she answered back; her eyes followed her husband and son, then went back to the big white man now standing directly in front of her.

"It looks worse than it is, Songbird. Why, Mingo and me's been hurt worse than that loadin' supplies on Cincinnatus' wagon."

Songbird stood firm and let her hands drop to her hips. The big man shuddered,

"Now you're scarin' me, Songbird. I think you been spendin' too much time with Becky. She's teachin' you too many of her wifely ways."

With that, Songbird smiled at him. She knew if her husband was seriously injured Daniel would not be making light of it.

"Whew," Daniel wiped his brow. "It was a huntin' accident, pure and simple."

He then explained the entire happening to her as Mingo, Ken-tah-teh, and the two Choctaw braves joined them. Both Songbird and Daniel noticed the little grimace as Mingo walked toward them, carrying his son. He was not about to admit being in pain.

The baby pointed to Daniel.

"Po."

"Daniel," Mingo said, trying to get him to say the proper name. "That is Daniel."

"Po," the baby said again.

Daniel leaned their two rifles up against their lodge, and then put out his arms to Ken-tah-teh.

"Come see Po, Tah-teh," He winked at his blood brother. "He'll learn my name soon enough, Mingo. For right now, ' Po' is fine with me."

The baby happily went to the big man, leaving Mingo in the concerned hands of his wife.

"I am fine, Songbird, really." He put his arms around her and hugged her. "It is just a little scrape."

But Songbird wanted to be sure for herself. She opened his coat. His entire right side was black and blue.

"You have a broken rib," she told him.

"No, I think you are mistaken, Songbird. It is just a little bruise…"

Before he could finish she very gently poked his side, as Daniel had done before.

"Ow," the Cherokee flinched. "Why must you and Daniel insist on doing that?"

Ken-tah-teh pointed to his father.

"Papa, ow?"

"Yes, Tah-teh, your Papa managed to get himself wounded again. Now he'll have to be taking it easy for a few days. You and your Mama will take good care of him, won't you?"

Mingo turned to the two young men who had not said a word since they put down their heavy load.

"We do have guests. Songbird, maybe they would like something to eat or drink."

She knew her husband was trying to change the subject.

"It was a long walk," Mingo continued. "And they carried the deer the entire way."

"Little Badger and Young Raven will stay and have a meal with us and stay the night if they wish to. But I would like to see if your side needs mending."

Mingo looked at Daniel who was shaking his head.

"Better do as she says, Mingo. I mean, that's what our womenfolk do best-take care of us when we need em' to."  
Mingo finally gave in and took his coat off. He sat down in his chair around their outside fire ring. Ken-tah-teh started fidgeting to get down. Daniel swung him to the ground. He raced over to his parents and stood leaning on his father's knee.

"Hello, Ken-tah-teh," Mingo said as Songbird cut the old bandages from his side.

"Papa ow," The baby said again.

The Cherokee man nodded, "Yes, Papa ow."

Daniel motioned to the two Indian braves who were still standing by the root cellar.

"Gentlemen, there's a woodpile on the other side of the lodge. If you go fetch some, I'll get this fire started and we'll roast some more of this venison for supper."

In just a few minutes, Daniel had the fire going enough to heat some water for Songbird to clean the wound on Mingo's side.

"You did a good job, Daniel, tending this little scrape," She looked at her husband. "Why did you try to make me think this was nothing, Mingo?"

Mingo leaned forward so she could wrap the clean bandage tight around his ribcage.

"Because Little Badger feels badly as it is. I didn't want to make too much of it."

The pretty maiden shook her head as she wrapped the bandage around a second time.

"Rebecca is right, you two should not be allowed to go hunting or fishing alone together." She patted Ken-tah-teh on the head. "It will be good when Ken-tah-teh is older and he and Israel can go with you to make sure you don't get hurt." She stood up. "Isn't that right, Ken-tah-teh?"

The baby was still holding tight to Mingo's knee.

"Fish, Papa?"

Mingo picked his son up and set him on his knee, setting his jaw to hide the pain from the bruised rib.  
"Not today, Ken-tah-teh, maybe tomorrow."

Songbird scowled at him.

"Or maybe the day after tomorrow," Mingo grinned.

Daniel placed the venison roast he had just cut over the fire to begin cooking. It was plenty big enough for their supper.

"So, Daniel," Songbird said, "I am guessing you lost the wager."

The big man turned sharply at Mingo who was bouncing a very happy Ken-tah-teh on his knee. It was the baby's favorite game. Pretending he was riding a horse, Ken-tah-teh would straddle his father's knee and Mingo would bounce and bounce and bounce until one of them got tired. And it was usually the "horse", not the rider, who would tire first.

"Mingo, I was gone for two minutes cutting that roast for your meal and you couldn't wait to tell your wife that I fell in the river."

The Cherokee laughed, holding onto his side with one hand and the baby with the other.

"Daniel, I did no such thing. It never crossed my mind to tell Songbird how you were completely soaked, head to toe."

Daniel sat down to Mingo and his son.

"I think your Papa is pulling my leg, Tah-teh."

But the baby was having too much fun bouncing on Mingo's knee to respond.

"No," Songbird said, handing Daniel a hot cup of coffee she had just made. "I recognized the bandages you used as the ones I put in Mingo's pack. And my mother's salve; you would not have known about them unless you were forced,"

She hesitated, thinking out the best way to proceed without allowing Daniel to become the target of her husband's joking.

"I mean, unless you were unable to use the bandages Rebecca always puts in your pack."  
But her attempt was futile as Mingo continued laughing,

"Songbird is being kind, Daniel, trying not to hurt your feelings. I do not believe it was the bandages and Wildflower's salve, but the obvious fact that your pack and your boots are still covered in the dried mud from the river you fell in."

Songbird slapped his other knee that was not carrying their son, but Mingo would not give up his chance to get even with all the jokes that had been played at his own expense.

"You were able to wash out your shirt, coat, and breeches, but we must have forgotten about your pack and boots."  
Spattering grease from the cooking roast began to sizzle on the embers of the fire. Little Badger and Young Raven came around the lodge, arms full of firewood.

"Here, boys, drop that wood right here and I'll get this fire burning and that roast will be done in no time." Visibly not responding to Songbird and Mingo's comments, the big man added the wood to the fire.

"There," he said standing, "That venison is gonna taste mighty good in just a little while. I best get home and see what Becky and the young'uns have cookin' for my supper." Arching his back, he stretched his arms over his head, and then brushed some of the dried mud off his pack.

"Then, maybe, I'll get this pack cleaned and find my other pair of dry boots. I'm leaving you in the good hands of your family, Mingo. Little Badger, Young Raven, thanks for all the help carrying that deer and don't believe anything Mingo tells you about me."

He started down the trail toward his cabin.

"I'll stop by the tavern and make sure Yancy and those surveyors ain't drank all of Cincinnatus' rum. And when you're up to it, I'll make good on our bet."

They watched as his tall form disappeared into the budding green of the Kentucky wilderness.

**Chapter 11**

Three days passed since Daniel had left Mingo in the care of his wife and son. The sun shone all three days, with not a single drop of rain, and the muddy waters of the Kentucky and Birch Tree rivers cleared. After a filling meal of the roast venison, Little Badger and Young Raven stayed one night and most of the next day helping Songbird prepare the venison so it would keep. Before they left, they made certain that the rain barrel was filled and the wood pile stacked high, all the while apologizing for wounding Mingo. Both Songbird and her husband tried to convince the two young braves that it was a hunting accident, but nevertheless before leaving, they assured her they would check back in a few days.

In their eyes and the eyes of many, Mingo was a great warrior, a man of honor and trust. They knew he would do the same if he had injured another warrior. Songbird was sure the two Choctaw braves would be back with fresh meat, more wood and water if it was needed. But she also knew her husband. Mingo would rest one day, maybe two. But by the third day she would not be able to keep him inside. He and Ken-tah-teh would be outside doing something together.

Back at the tavern in Boonesborough, bacon and eggs sizzled in the big cast iron skillet. Cincinnatus, tavern-keeper and general store owner carried the hot pan to the back table. The four surveyors who were staying there were already having their morning coffee.

"Better enjoy these eggs, gentlemen. A fox got into the chicken coop and killed all my hens. So until I get me some more, you'll be eating mush with your bacon."

John Eliot filled his plate then slid the skillet to the next man, his brother, Cameron.

"Not to worry, Cincinnatus, if the weather cooperates, we will not be your guests much longer."

Cincinnatus went back to the hearth, returned with the coffee pot and re-filled their mugs.

"What will you gents be doing after you finish, then? You could always spend some of that pay right here before you leave."

Being the polite proprietor to his customers, he really hoped they would take their leave as soon as they were done with their surveying work. The Continental Army must have been desperate for surveyors, he thought to himself. He hadn't trusted them from the very first time he met them. But at least it put some extra money in his own pocket as well as Yancy's, who had just announced that he and his wife were expecting again. Not another mouth to feed, Yancy would say, but another smiling face to make him happy.

"I assure you, Cincinnatus," John Eliot continued. "Before we move on, we will purchase whatever supplies we need from you. And we may just buy the house a pint or two." He looked around, "Speaking of buying the house a pint, where have your friends, Daniel Boone and the Cherokee been the last few days?"

Cincinnatus hesitated, always wary of strangers' questions about his friends.

"They were on a little hunting trip. Those venison steaks you had for your supper last evening came from a buck they got."

"Were?" Eliot asked.

The tavern-keeper started picking up the dirty dishes.

"Mingo got himself hurt, so they had to come home early."

"Oh my, I trust he will be all right," Eliot remarked.

Cincinnatus nodded, "Don't worry about Mingo. He and Daniel are always getting themselves banged up. His family will take good care of him in their lodge down by the Birch Tree."

"The Birch Tree?" The older Eliot asked again?

"Birch Tree River," Cincinnatus answered.

"Oh, of course," Eliot said.

At that moment the front door opened, and a tall stranger entered. He walked quickly to the bar and rested his elbows on the hard wood. Cincinnatus looked up,

"I best go tend to my customer there."

"Yes, you had," Eliot laughed. "We will wait for Yancy outside, but we will be back tonight. Perhaps some more of those venison steaks?"

Cincinnatus observed that the stranger was watching them out of the corner of his eye. He circled behind the bar.  
"What can I get you, Sir?"

When the stranger stood to his full height, he was a head taller than the tavern keeper. Now Cincinnatus could see his face.

"Well, I don't believe it!" he exclaimed.

But the stranger put his finger to his lips to quiet him.

"Could I have a cup of tea?" He answered.

"Comin' right up," the tavern keeper said, and went over to the hearth.

The stranger watched as the four other customers went outside.

Cincinnatus returned with a steaming cup of tea. He sat it in front of the smiling stranger.

"Hello, Cincinnatus," he said softly.

The tall man wore a stylishly-trimmed mustache on his otherwise clean-shaven face. His clothes were neither military nor royalty, but normal trail-like wear.

"Hello Cincinnatus?" The tavern keeper chimed back. He checked the room to make sure it was empty. "The Governor General of Virginia, or should I say the ousted Governor General of Virginia sashays into my establishment unannounced and just says 'hello, Cincinnatus'?"

He put out his hand and the bigger man shook it. The fact that the two men were on opposite sides of the war made no difference. Cincinnatus respected Lord Dunsmore as a man of principle, and he was Mingo's father.

"How are you, Cincinnatus?"

"I am real fine, but I should ask how you are. We heard about the little altercation with the residents of Williamsburg, something about their powder supply, and your hasty departure."

Lord Dunsmore took a sip of the hot tea and nodded. He seemed to relax just a little.

"Such are the matters of war and government," he said and took another sip of his drink. "Good tea."

"It should be, it's from your own stock that I bring back for Mingo."

The door opened and a second stranger entered,

"The horses have been watered and fed, Sir," he spoke to Dunsmore in a quiet voice.

"Very good, Robley," The tall man said to him. "Come and Cincinnatus will brew you a very good cup of tea. It was a long ride."

"Thank you, Sir," he answered.

"Robley Davenport," Cincinnatus said. "Welcome to Boonesborough and my tavern."

They shook hands.

"Hello, Mr. Jones, it is good to see you again."

"Let me get you a good, hot cup of tea," Cincinnatus said and disappeared into the back of the tavern returning with some more makings for a cup of tea. "Why don't you two gents come over and sit by the fire while I get this water hot?" He could see the two men were having a serious conversation. As they joined him in front of the fire he heard Davenport say,

"I will see to it straight away, Sir."

"After you have had a cup of tea and something to eat will be soon enough, Robley. Come, let's sit by the fire with our host."

Robley Davenport was Lord Dunsmore's man-servant and had been for twenty-five years. He was the same size and build as Cincinnatus, but clean-shaven. A faithful part of Lord Dunsmore's household staff, he oversaw the running of the Governor's Palace in Williamsburg.

Robley was well acquainted with the young Indian boy his master had brought home to London with him so many years ago. Mingo, known to Davenport as Edmund Murray, found Robley easier to talk with than his own father.

"Leavin' so soon, Robley?" Cincinnatus asked as he handed him a cup of tea. The other man swallowed his first sip of tea. Dunsmore interrupted,

"Yes, Cincinnatus, there is a matter I just remembered needs attending to, and Robley is the one to take care of it for me."

The tavern-keeper stood up,

"Well not before I get you something to eat. Let me go get you some bacon and eggs and that Johnny-cake should be almost done."

"Johnny-cake?" The two Englishman asked in unison.

"Corn bread," Cincinnatus chuckled. "Go sit down, and I'll be back in two shakes of a lamb's tail."

Both men ate a hearty meal of bacon, eggs, and corn bread. Cincinnatus took advantage of an empty tavern to join them. Robley finished first and stood up.

"I will be on my way, Sir," He put out his hand to the tavern-keeper. "Thank you, Cincinnatus. It was a pleasure to see you again."

"Same here, Robley. You take care on the trail."

Lord Dunsmore stood and put his hand on Davenport's shoulder.

"You know where to meet me, Robley. I should be there no later than three or four days from now."

"Yes, Sir," he nodded respectfully. "And Sir, please give my regards to Mr. Edmund."

Cincinnatus pretended not to hear.

"I will do that, Robley."

Davenport tipped his hat to Cincinnatus and left. The tavern-keeper began clearing off the table.

"You sure Robley there will be all right traveling alone?"

The taller man picked up what dishes Cincinnatus couldn't get in one trip and carried them to the bar.

"On the contrary, Robley is one of the finest shots and best riders in all of England. He will be fine, I assure you."  
Cincinnatus returned from the back and set a jug down on the bar, just in case.

"Now then, Governor," Cincinnatus began, but Yancy Taylor came bursting through the door.

"Cincinnatus, where are those two crazy Englishmen? Oh, excuse me," seeing that the tavern-keeper was not alone.

"They left, lookin' for you, about twenty minutes ago, Yancy."

"Thanks, Cincinnatus. They are probably over getting the pack mule." Yancy left as quickly as he had come in.  
"Sorry ,'bout that, Governor. Now, as I was saying,"

But Dunsmore interrupted, "Two crazy Englishmen?"

"Oh, you have to excuse Yancy. He don't always think before he talks."

Cincinnatus cleared his throat. He needed to think what he was going to tell Lord Dunsmore. He didn't want to reveal anything about the road being surveyed for the new Continental Army post being built nearby.

"Two of the four men who was in here when you came in are surveyors. Yancy's doing some scouting for them, a guide I guess you could call him."

"This Yancy is a friend of yours?"

The tavern-keeper was relieved that Dunsmore didn't ask any more about what or who was doing the surveying.  
"Yancy? Yes, he is a friend; in fact, he is a good friend of Mingo and Dan'l too. Which brings me to the question I been tryin' to ask you ever since you came through that door. What brings the Governor General of Virginia to the wilderness of Kentucky, alone and not wearing those fancy Red Coat duds of his?"

A hint of a smile appeared on the otherwise serious face of Lord Dunsmore.

"I will be taking my leave of the Colonies soon. My family at this time is in New York. Before I leave and join them…well, before I leave, I…"

Cincinnatus smiled as well.

"You're not fooling me, Lord Dunsmore. I know exactly what you are here for. Or I should say who you are here for. "  
"Yes, Cincinnatus, I am certain you of all people do know why I am here. I should like to see my son, and meet his wife and my grandson."

"Well, I happen to know he will be at his lodge because he went and got himself shot."

He could see Dunsmore's face tighten.

"Don't worry, he didn't get shot with a rifle. An arrow creased his side, and bruised a rib. It was a hunting accident, plain and simple."

Dunsmore breathed a little easier.

"Where is his lodge located? Is it far?"

Cincinnatus reached under the bar and set two pewter mugs in front of them.

"No, it ain't far. It's on the Birch Tree River that runs off the Kentucky, not far from Miller's Spring. I can take you there if you like."

"No, thank you, Cincinnatus. That should not be necessary. I am certain I will be able to find it." Dunsmore answered.

"Oh, that's right," Cincinnatus stroked his beard. "I keep forgetting, Lord Dunsmore, that you was surveyin' this land long before any of us were here in Boonesborough."

The tall Englishman put out his hand,

"It's John, John Murray. No matter how this altercation turns out between my country and the colonies, it was a pleasure meeting you, Cincinnatus, and doing business with you as well. If you ever find your way to London, please know you will be welcome at my house." He placed his hand on top of the jug sitting on the bar. "But only if you bring some Blue Thunder with you."

Cincinnatus gave him a hearty handshake.

"That I will, John, that I will. In fact, it ain't too early in my book to share a farewell drink between friends.  
"Well, maybe just one." The tall man said.

The tavern-keeper filled up the tankards and the two men lifted their glasses.

"To a good life," Dunsmore said.

"And to family," Cincinnatus added.

"Here, here," Dunsmore agreed.

And with a clank of their tankards, they shared a goodbye toast.

Outside of the tavern, near the stable, Reese Gaylord and Simon Briggs readied two pack mules with the surveying equipment. John Eliot and his brother Cameron stood a short distance away, filling their canteens at the well.  
"Are you sure?' Cameron asked his older brother, low enough so as not to be heard by the other two men. "He certainly wasn't dressed like Lord Dunsmore would be dressed."

John Eliot slammed the cork of his canteen shut with the palm of his hand.

"That was John Murray, I am certain of it," he answered. "One does not forget that face or that lordly walk, even if it has been more than twenty years."

Cameron closed his canteen in the same fashion as his brother,

"I wonder what he is doing here."

Shaking his head, the older Eliot stared his brother in the eye,

"I do believe all that rum you have been consuming has drowned your brain of its memory."

He looked to see if anyone was within hearing distance.

"Don't you remember that Indian friend of Boone's and Cincinnatus is John Murray's son by a Cherokee squaw?"  
Cameron took a deep breath,

"Now I remember. Do you think he recognized us? Murray, I mean."

John shook his head,

"No, I don't think so. As soon as I saw who it was, I turned away. And you already had your back to him." He put the canteen strap over his shoulder, adjusting it until it was comfortable. "I would venture a guess that he is here to visit his Cherokee son and his wife-and his new grandson. Indian or not, bloodline is very important to Lord Dunsmore."

"I think you are right, brother," Cam said, and like a mirror image he did the same with his canteen.

"Oh I know I am right. And he is dressed that way because he was chased out of Williamsburg by some angry colonists and if recognized could be taken prisoner. Yes, Brother Cameron, I'll wager he is here to say goodbye to that Indian son of his. And you know what else?"

"What?" Cameron replied.

John Eliot continued, "As I look back I recall a tall, slender youth about the stables. Hair black as night and skin the color of that sorrel mare he favored. He was good with the horses and now I know why, having Indian blood in him. He didn't talk much, but I do remember him always around the stables when we were there."

John reached over and took the cup which hung on the side of the well. He dipped it into the bucket of water and took a drink.

"Do you think it is this same Indian?" Cam asked him.

The older Eliot handed the cup to his brother, knowing full well he would have to have a drink of water too.

"That is exactly what I am thinking. And I am also thinking, maybe that young Indian boy about the stables could have named us as suspects to his father in the theft we were accused of."

Cameron replaced the cup on the side of the well for the next person to use.

"What are we going to do? We can't stay around as long as Murray is here."

John's hand went to Cam's shoulder,

"For once in your life you are correct, little brother. We are going to finish our surveying job today and take our leave." He patted his brother's shoulder, "But not entirely, we still have some unfinished business with not just one man named Murray, but now two."

John Eliot turned to see Yancy Taylor approaching,

"Not a word," he whispered to his brother.

"Are you fellers ready to go?" Yancy shouted as he got closer. He looked over at the other two men who were standing by the pack animals. "We're taking two pack mules today?"

"Yes, we are," John Eliot answered as they walked toward Reese Gaylord and Simon Briggs. "We are taking what we need today to finish the job today. And if we work straight through the morning we should be done by midday. And then, Yancy, you will be rid of us and can return to whatever it is you would be doing normally."

"Well, let's get going then, because I got lots of work needs doing around my place," the Boonesborough man said. "I'll meet you at the gate. I done forgot and left my rifle at the tavern." He took off on a dead run for the tavern.  
The two Eliot brothers, Gaylord and Briggs stopped just outside the gate to Boonesborough letting the two mules get a last drink from the water trough.

"Did I hear you right?" Gaylord asked. "We will be done today?"

Again John Eliot made sure no one else was within hearing distance.

"That is correct, gentlemen. Do you have any prospects for work in the near future?"

Gaylord shook his head, "No, and this job ain't payin' us that much. We'll have to start lookin' again." Eliot could see Yancy coming with his rifle.

"Well gentlemen, if you don't mind what kind of work you do, we may have a job for you that should pay quite nicely." Yancy was getting closer. "But do not mention any of this while Yancy is around. We will explain the details later."

"Ready to go, men?" Yancy asked them.

'I should say we are," John Eliot answered.

The group of five men leading two pack animals headed into the woods of Kentucky.


	4. Chapters 12 to 14 and the Epilogue

Ken-tah-teh, A Promise

**Chapter 12**

The chorus of early morning birds told Mingo he should be up and about. Warm and cozy under the elk skin blanket, he refused to open his eyes. Once he did, he knew, he would have to get up. Having Songbird and Ken-tah-teh close beside him was another reason to cheat the daylight.

One hour later, the chorus had grown louder. Mingo opened his eyes and looked over at his sleeping family. Quietly getting out of their bed, he grabbed hold of the bandage that went around his middle. The deep gash and bruised rib from the hunting accident was healing, but slowly. Of course, Songbird told him it would heal faster if he would stay in bed for a few days, but he was stubborn.

As Mingo walked by the fire the embers still glowed. He stirred them up and added some wood. It would be ready for their morning meal when he came back inside from washing. Stepping outside, now he could see what the birds had been singing about. The sun was shining and there was not a cloud in the sky. He filled the wash basin with the cold rainwater from their rain barrel and proceeded with his morning wash. What he really wanted to do was take a morning swim in the river, but he thought better to let his rib heal some more.

When he came back inside, he was met at the door by Ken-tah-teh, smiling and with dry pants, ready for the new day.

"Up, Papa, up," the baby begged.

Mingo picked him up.

"Good morning, Ken-tah-teh. Look at you; did Mama give you dry pants?"

Mingo looked over at Songbird who stood holding a clean bandage in her hands. He whispered in the baby's ear loud enough so she could hear.

"I think Papa is next, Ken-tah-teh."

He put the baby down and sat by the fire while Songbird cleaned the wound and changed the bandage. When she was done, Ken-tah-teh climbed up into his father's lap. He carefully put his little hand on the bandage wrapped around Mingo's ribcage.

"Papa ow?"

Mingo hugged his little boy tightly.

"Yes, Papa ow, but Papa is getting better with yours and Mama's care."

Songbird put a pan of water on the fire to heat for her sassafras tea,

"Tell Papa, he would get better much quicker if he would do as Mama says and not work outside like he insists on doing."

The baby's face lit up.

"Outside?" He said, pointing to the door of their lodge. Mingo grinned at his wife who was shaking her head.

"I give up," she said. "I am outnumbered by my men." She took the first sip of her tea which had finished brewing.  
Mingo sniffed the air, "Mmmm, smells good, doesn't it, Ken-tah-teh?" But the baby was still looking at the door of their lodge.

"Would you like a cup?" Songbird asked him.

"I think I would like a cup, thank you. And I tell you what, Mama, it is still quite early. We will have our tea and then your men will go back and lay down for little while until it warms up a little more. How will that be?" Mingo said. Of course the next obstacle would be to convince their little warrior that going back to bed would be a good idea.

Two hours later Mingo woke up to the familiar smell of corn cakes and coffee. Songbird was nearby working on a new basket. He had slept longer than he realized. Maybe his wife was right and he did need more rest. Their son was still sleeping, but he began to stir when Mingo stood up.

"Smells good," the Cherokee man said as he joined Songbird by the fire. He poured himself a cup of the hot beverage, leaned over and kissed his wife. "Thank you," he told her. "I think you were right. I did need the rest, but we are going to have our hands full for the rest of the day." He nodded toward the little one who was now climbing down from their bed. "He will be raring to go all day."

The baby clambered over to his parents and crawled up into Songbird's lap. Chirping birds outside of the partially open door called to the baby.

"Papa, outside?" Ken-tah-teh had not forgotten Mingo's promise to him. The Cherokee man broke off a small piece of his own corn cake and gave it to his son.

"Yes, Ken-tah-teh, you and Papa will go outside. Perhaps if Mama says it is all right we will go and catch some fish for our evening meal."

"Fish," the baby repeated with a mouthful of corn cake.

Songbird patted his bare belly, "I think that a very good idea. I will work in our garden while my men go fishing. And Ken-tah-teh, it will be your job to make sure Papa does not over exert himself."

"Fish," the baby said again, pointing to the door.

Before Mingo could answer, an unexpected whinny of a horse came from outside. Always aware of the dangers of the wilderness, his eyes met Songbird's. She recognized the look of concern and gently put her finger on the baby's mouth. Ken-tah-teh, even at his young age, knew not to make a sound.

Mingo picked up his rifle, quietly pulled the hammer back and went to the door of their lodge. Peering out the small opening he could see plainly the horse as well as its rider. His head dropped. Drawing a long breath, he turned to Songbird.

"It is all right," letting her know there was no threat of danger. Carefully he uncocked his rifle and put it back in its safe resting place, away from little hands. Ken-tah-teh's eyes lit up when the horse whinnied again, but he said nothing. Mingo smiled, he knew what the sound of a "po-nee" meant to his son. His buckskin coat hung next to his vest. He put on the coat, tying it together with the leather strap on the front, loose enough so it didn't hurt his side.

"Mingo?" Songbird's voice was filled with concern.

"It is fine, Songbird, just someone I should talk to alone first. Do not worry, Ken-tah-teh, Papa will be back for you in a few minutes I promise."

Songbird bounced the baby on her lap. "Come, Ken-tah-teh, we will get your trousers on so you will be ready when Papa comes for you."

Mingo stepped slowly from his lodge and faced the man he called father. Lord Dunsmore, Governor General of Virginia tethered his big, gray Arabian mare, allowing her room to graze. He had traveled a long way and Mingo wondered why-but he had a pretty good idea.

The tall, distinguished looking man patted the mare's chest. "Good girl," Mingo heard him say. He then walked over to his son.

"Hello, Mingo."

"Father."

Both men teetered nervously back and forth. The older man spoke first.

"It has been a long time-too long for a father and son not to communicate," Dunsmore said.

Mingo stood squarely in front of the door to his lodge.

"To what do I owe the honor of this visit?" his voice was cold, a reaction he regretted as soon as he had spoken.

The older man looked at the outside fire ring and the chairs around it.

"It was a long ride; could we at least sit down?"

Mingo looked around, but saw no entourage.

"You are traveling alone?"

Dunsmore nodded, "This is not business, but a personal trip."

The Cherokee gestured toward the fire ring for them to sit. He added some kindling to the embers, and put the pot of water on to heat for tea. His manners had not left him, even though a visit from his estranged father left his skin clammy.

"You are taking quite a chance traveling alone after the news from Williamsburg last year. Trying to take the colonists' powder and shot did not prove a wise decision. You were asked to take your leave of the Governor's Palace and the city, from what we heard here in our wilderness."

The sun had begun to warm the morning air. Dunsmore unbuttoned and opened his own buckskin coat.  
"Orders, Mingo. I was simply following orders."

"Ah yes," Mingo repeated. "Orders."

"No different than if your friend, Mr. Boone gave you an order, if you were on a mission for your Mr. Washington."

Mingo had to admit, to himself anyway, that his father was right. Orders were orders.

"Is your family safe?"

"Yes, they are, thank you for asking," Dunsmore answered. "They are in New York. I will join them as soon as I am finished here. I needed to check on the hunting camp in Porto Bello and a couple of other things that have arisen."

Mingo moved the pot closer to the now glowing embers. An uncomfortable silence arose between them, but the wisdom of age took over.

"Much time has passed between us, Mingo. I see you now as the Cherokee warrior you were meant to be. But I do not regret taking you with me to London. You were my son, my blood. I gave you a home, food, clothes, and an education. It was Talota's wish for me to do so. Did you know that, Mingo? She did not want your young life to be lost and wasted on an enemy tribe's battlefield."

"Yes, Father, I did know it was her wish." Mingo answered.

"Then why, Mingo, why do you hate me so?"

The Cherokee man fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair.

"I didn't hate you, Father. I have never hated you. Resented you, maybe, but never hate."

"Because I lived and Talota did not?" His father asked.

Mingo's eyes dropped to the ground.

"It shames me now that I felt that way. But I was a boy and I loved her more than anyone or anything."

Dunsmore sat forward rubbing his hand together.

"I loved her too, Mingo. Deep down you must know that. Did I ever lead you to believe any different? I never mistreated her, never spoke badly of her. I mourned her death as you did."

Mingo looked up at him, "I never saw you."

"You were a boy. I was a man. You were the son, I was the father. I did not let you see me mourn for her." The older man looked to the sky. "Therein could have been a cause of the distance between us."

"Maybe," Mingo said, reaching for the pot of water to see if it was hot yet. It was not, but his side was. He sat back holding onto the bandage as his father looked on.

"Cincinnatus told me about your injury. Are you all right?"

"It is healing quite well, thank you," Mingo answered with just a slight smile on his face. "Yes I have heard about your business dealings with Cincinnatus-and your conversations over his Kentucky Blue Thunder."

It was Lord Dunsmore's turn to sit back in his chair.

"I am a tired, old man, Mingo. You may not believe this but I wish to go back to England, raise my horses, work in my garden, and enjoy a brandy in the evening. Or yes, maybe even a Blue Thunder. But I could not go back to London without seeing you." He hesitated. "Word has reached me, Mingo-" Before he could finish, the door to the lodge slowly opened and a little head covered in black hair peeked out.

Mingo opened his arms.

"Come."

His fifteen month old son scampered over to him. He had his little buckskin trousers on, but no shirt. His hair was long, covering his neck, but not long enough to be braided yet. Mingo picked him up and sat him on his knee, but the baby quickly slipped himself to the ground. He turned, facing the stranger, leaning safely back on his father's legs.

"It is all right," Mingo whispered to him.

"Well now, and who might this be?" Dunsmore asked, smiling at the little one.

Mingo peered into the eyes of the man across from him. And he saw not the look of aristocracy or the Crown, but the look of a grandfather, and of a father. Dunsmore was right, he had given him food and clothes and an education, even if it had been in London.

The Cherokee man's heart softened as he held onto his own boy.

"This is my son, your grandson. His name is Ken-tah-teh."

Dunsmore put out his hand to the baby,

"Good day to you, Ken-tah-teh."

Mingo nodded as his little boy looked up at him, then back to the stranger. He reached out his small hand and touched the older man's much larger one.

"He is a fine looking boy, Mingo."

"I must apologize, Father. I know you think it unseemly for a man, young or old to go without a shirt. But as the air warms he refuses to keep one on."

Dunsmore smiled at the baby who was reveling in the safety of his father's embrace.

"No matter, a different time and, definitely, a different place. As I recall, you did the same at that age."

Mingo acknowledged the memory with a nod, picked up Ken-tah-teh and sat him on his knee again. To which the baby, again, slid off, maintaining his previous stance, hands on Mingo's knees with a once in a while upward glance at his father.

"Ever since he began to stand and walk, he prefers it to sitting, don't you, Ken-tah-teh?"

Songbird came out of the lodge, carrying a steaming pot of tea and three mugs. She joined them at the fire ring. Lord Dunsmore stood up immediately. Mingo stood and picked up the baby.

"Father, I would like you to meet my wife, Songbird."

Dunsmore put out his hand.

"Songbird," Mingo continued. "This is my father, John Murray or you may know him as Lord Dunsmore."

"John," Dunsmore said as he took Songbird's hand.

"It is a great pleasure to meet you, Songbird."

"Mama," the baby said.

"Oh, I beg your pardon, Ken-tah-teh. Is this beautiful lady your mother? You are a very lucky boy."

Songbird smiled at the older man. "It is nice to finally meet you, Lord Dunsmore."

"Please call me John," he told her.

"Yes, John," she said. "You have come a long way. I thought you might like a cup of tea."

"That sounds very good, Songbird. Thank you."

The soft nickering of a contented horse eating her fill of green grass had taken over the attention of the baby.

Three decades difference in their ages and still Dunsmore was as tall as his son. Mingo stood holding Ken-tah-teh who couldn't take his eyes off of the horse. He pointed to her.

"Po-nee," then looked at his father.

"Yes, pony," Mingo answered.

Songbird poured a cup of tea and handed it to the older man. He nodded his thanks and took a drink. Again the baby pointed to the animal.

"Po-nee, Papa."

Mingo looked at his own father.

"Your mare," he explained. "He loves horses, young, and old, big, small. He has no fear of them."

Dunsmore swallowed, "Again, very much like you."

The baby began squirming in Mingo's arms.

"Po-nee, Papa, Po-nee," he begged.

"Is she gentle? He will not give up until he has petted her."

"Blue Belle?" Dunsmore said. The mare's ears perked at her name. "She is as gentle as they come." He rubbed the small of his back. "She knows how to set an easy pace for an old man."

Dunsmore looked at Songbird and Mingo.

"Do you think he would let me take him over to see her?"

Mingo gently patted the baby's behind.

"Why don't you ask him?"

Songbird took the hot cup of tea from the older man."

"Ken-tah-teh," he said. "Would you like to go see the pony with me?"

Mingo heard a gentleness in his father's voice he had not heard in a long time. The baby pointed to the horse again.

"Po-nee."

Dunsmore put out his arms,

"Come, let your grandfather show you his Blue Belle."

Ken-tah-teh looked to see his parents' approving smiles, and then went into the waiting arms of this new friend.

"Oh, you are a big boy," the older man pretended to groan. "Let's go meet Blue."

The little one looked over his grandfather's shoulder to make sure Mingo was following close behind. Then he turned to the man who was carrying him and pointed to the grazing animal.

"Po-nee."

Blue Belle was a ten year old Arabian mare, dapple gray with four black stockings, black mane and tail, and a blaze of white down her face. In the bright sunlight her silver gray coat had just a hint of bluish hue-hence her name.

One could easily tell she liked people as grandfather and grandson approached; she stopped grazing and raised her head. When Dunsmore called her name, she walked slowly toward them.

"Blue Belle, come here. Ken-tah-teh would like to say hello."

He had taken off her saddle and bridle, and put on a halter so she could eat without having a bit in her mouth.

When she shook her head, her black mane shone in the sunlight. The baby laughed when she did so.

Mingo couldn't hear what they were saying, but he could tell Ken-tah-teh was not afraid. His hand was around the older man's neck, holding on while he pointed to the mare with the other.

"Nice girl, Blue Belle," Dunsmore rubbed the horse's face. He took Ken-tah-teh's hand and put it on her nose. The baby ran his little hand up and down her face then looked at his grandfather.

"Nice Blue Belle," Ken-tah-teh said.

"You are a very smart boy, Ken-tah-teh," Dunsmore laughed. "Just like your father there."

The baby turned and pointed to Mingo.

"Papa," he told Dunsmore.

"Papa," Dunsmore repeated. "I like the sound of that. Let's see how you look sitting on Blue." He looked to Mingo, who nodded.

Years of his life in London passed before Mingo as he watched two generations share the enjoyment a horse can give a man. He could hear laughter, young and old coming from them both. Who was this man holding his son? It was a side of his English father he hardly remembered. Or maybe his deep hatred for the streets of London had blocked it from his memory. Was it possible for a man to change so, he asked himself.

Then Mingo thought back three years ago when he himself was still a single man, a confirmed bachelor for all time, or so he thought. Then he met Songbird and his world changed-for the better. Circumstances arise, people can change. Mingo decided maybe it was time to put politics and past troubles behind and at this moment, enjoy family, new and old.

The Cherokee man watched as his father sat the baby on the mare's back. Without being shown Ken-tah-teh took hold of her mane and held tight to the horse's sides with his legs, as best his short legs would allow. Lord Dunsmore threw his head back and laughed when he saw the baby take to the horse like a seasoned equestrian. He glanced back to Mingo who had joined them.

"I told you, Father, he loves horses."

"I guess it runs in the family," Dunsmore said, holding tight to Ken-tah-teh, who was happily sitting on the mare's back.

"I believe you are right," Mingo answered. One good memory he did have of his life in England was horses. Being the son of Lord Dunsmore, he had access to a stable of fine mounts. After his studies were complete for the day he was able to ride as much as he liked. It was an escape back to his Cherokee life that he was forced to leave behind him as a youth.

Mingo untied the rope tethering the horse, and started walking her slowly. "Hang on tight, Ken-tah-teh." He told the baby, but he knew his father would not let go of him, walking beside. The little warrior was in his glory.

The two men kept Ken-tah-teh happy by walking the mare around the lodge several times. Songbird watched from the fire where she was preparing a meal of venison, pan biscuits, and cooked apples, as the morning had turned to midday. Finally Dunsmore spoke up, "Whoa, Blue." The mare stopped and Dunsmore patted the baby's back.

"Ken-tah-teh, your grandfather is tired. Do you think maybe we could give Blue Belle a rest and I might possibly finish my cup of tea before I have to leave?"

The baby, however, was not ready to give up his ride so soon. He continued to hold tight to the horse's mane.

"Come, Ken-tah-teh," Mingo said. "Let's go get Blue Bell a drink of water and see what Mama is doing." He took his son off the mare's back. Dunsmore tethered her, again giving her plenty of room to graze. "Good girl," he said and gave a slap to her broad rump. "Ken-tah-teh is going to bring you some water."

Now directly overhead, the sun warmed the air nicely. Songbird had finished preparing the light meal. She knew they would be hungry as their morning meal had been interrupted. And the water was still hot for tea.

"Mama, po-nee," Ken-tah-teh said as he and Mingo sat down beside her at the fire.

"Yes, I saw you riding the pony," she took him from Mingo. "Are you hungry?"

Ken-tah-teh shook his head. "No, po-nee."

Mingo and Songbird had to laugh at his youthful obsession. The Cherokee watched his father with the mare.

"I think he has come to say goodbye," he said to Songbird.

"I think he has come to say hello-to his grandson," she answered.

"And his mother," Mingo smiled at her.

But the baby was having none of this small talk between his parents. He had other things on his mind.

"Po-nee, Papa," Ken-tah-teh pointed to the rain barrel by the door of their lodge. He begged to get down. And when Songbird put him on the ground, he hurried over to the empty bucket which sat by the rain barrel. "Blue Belle drink," he told them both.

"I think your grandfather is right, Ken-tah-teh. You are a very smart boy." Mingo looked at Songbird. "Keep the tea hot. It looks as though we are going to get Blue Belle a drink."

Soon the air was filled with the sound of a thirsty horse drinking from a bucket of cool water. Ken-tah-teh stood by the wooden pail on the ground, gently petting the mare's nose as she drank. Mingo and Dunsmore stood close beside him.

"She is a beautiful animal," Mingo told his father. "And very well-mannered."

"Yes," Dunsmore answered. "She is that. Do you remember Silver Prince of Arabia?"

"Your prize Arabian stallion? Of course I remember him. I remember when he was stolen and you almost lost your mind until you got him back."

"Yes, you are right, I almost did. I hadn't thought about that time in a long while until recently," Dunsmore added.  
Mingo ran his hand along the mare's long neck and her back.

"She is his?"

Dunsmore nodded yes. "I raised her, broke her, and trained her myself."

One thing Mingo and his father did share was a love and respect of a fine horse. And it was obvious, even at his very young age; Ken-tah-teh shared that love with his father and grandfather.

"I brought her with me when I was called to the colonies. I wanted a mount I was familiar with and could trust." A smile came to Dunsmore's face as he watched the baby with the horse.

"What is it?" Mingo asked him.

"It is like watching you all over again. You were always around all the Indian ponies when you were small. And yes, you were that small at one time."

When the mare finished drinking, she raised her nose out of the bucket. Curiosity got the best of her and she nuzzled Ken-tah-teh's bare belly. The surprised baby lost his balance and sat down on the ground with a thump. Both Mingo and Dunsmore bent down on one knee. They could see the baby was not hurt, just startled. He looked up at the men, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. But when he saw them smiling, he laughed himself. He got to his feet and walked to his father's open arms.

"Blue drink me," he told Mingo.

"I think Blue Belle likes you, Ken-tah-teh. What do you think, Grandfather?" Mingo looked at his father.

"I think you are right," Dunsmore agreed.

Mingo heard the words come from his own mouth, but the sentiments behind them were confusing the Cherokee man. Ken-tah-teh would not know the word, grandfather, or who he was referring to. But he also knew how smart his boy was. Mingo stood and picked up the baby. Dunsmore stood too.

"This is your grandfather," Mingo pointed to the older man. "Can you say grandfather, Ken-tah-teh?" Knowing his son repeated everything he heard, Mingo knew he would do his best with this new word.

"Grand-fodder?" the baby said.

"Grandfather," Mingo repeated in his always perfect diction.

"Grand-fodder," the baby said again.

Before Mingo could speak, Dunsmore stopped him.

"Mingo, 'Grand-fodder' is perfectly all right with me. In fact, it is one title I will cherish more than you know." He shook Ken-tah-teh's hand. "You have a wonderful family, a beautiful wife and a fine son. Fatherhood suits you, Mingo."

The Cherokee man squeezed his son tight.

"You are the second man to tell me that. Thank you, Father."

Ken-tah-teh looked at Mingo, then pointed to Dunsmore.

"No, Papa. Grand-fodder."

Both men's eyebrows raised in delight.

"Well, Ken-tah-teh," Mingo said. "I stand corrected."

He put the baby down between them and took his hand.

"Let's go see if Mama is still waiting for us to come eat with her."  
Ken-tah-teh looked up at Dunsmore and raised his other hand.

"Grand-fodder, go, Mama."

In an instant, in that one joining of those three hands the distance between an English father and a half-Cherokee son lessened. The boiling animosity between a powerful empire and her fledgling colonies seemed to disappear for the moment. At that point in time, three generations walked together as one, with the touching of those three hands, two big and one very small one

Songbird watched from her chair by the fire as the three of them walked toward her hand in hand. That lasted only a few minutes for as soon as Ken-tah-teh saw her, he broke free and ran toward her. She put aside the mending she was doing just in time for him to tumble into her lap.

"Hello, Ken-tah-teh, I saw you give Blue Belle a drink of water." The baby settled back into his mother's arms, then pointed to the horse.

"Blue Belle drink," he told her.

"Is that sassafras tea I smell?" Dunsmore asked, as he and Mingo joined mother and son at the fire. "I have not had that in a very long time."

"It is Mama's favorite, isn't it, Ken-tah-teh?" Songbird stood holding her son and turned toward their lodge. "Let's go get some sassafras and make Grandfather and Papa a cup of tea." The two men watched them go.

"You have chosen wisely, Mingo. Songbird is a good woman and a good mother," Dunsmore said.

"Actually, we chose each other," Mingo told him how they met and of Songbird's Choctaw heritage. Dunsmore remembered her father, Chief Standing Bear, when he was a young warrior.

Through the opened door of the lodge, Ken-tah-teh came first, carrying his toy "Po-nee." Songbird followed carrying the sassafras to brew some tea. When the baby reached Dunsmore he presented him with the toy to see.

"And who is this fine steed, Ken-tah-teh?"

"Po-nee," the baby answered.

Songbird and Mingo could see their son was comfortable with the stranger he now knew as "Grand fodder." The aroma of steeping sassafras wafted from the tea pot.

"Let's let Grandfather have a cup of tea and something to eat, Ken-tah-teh." Carefully she handed the hot mug of tea to Dunsmore.

"Hot," the little one told him.

Dunsmore shook as he laughed at the baby's teaching lesson.

"Yes, it is hot and it smells delightful. Thank you, Songbird."

They enjoyed a meal of venison and bread together. No talk of wars or past hard feelings, but of the day, the land, and family.

"Well, that was a very good meal, Songbird, thank you. But I must be on my way before it gets too late."

Ken-tah-teh had been playing with his "Po-nee" at their feet. Mingo picked him up and sat him on his knee.

"Father, it is already past mid-day. Your mare could use a rest, and I am certain a good night's sleep off the hard ground might sound agreeable to you. You are welcome to spend the night with us in our lodge. We have an extra bunk, a warm fire, and a roof overhead."

He began bouncing Ken-tah-teh, who had straddled Mingo's knee again. "And it would give you a chance to spend some more time with your grandson."

Dunsmore reached over and touched the baby's knee.

"I would like that very much, thank you, Mingo," He looked at Songbird who had continued her mending. "Thank you both."

Mingo was still bouncing, "I must warn you though. We seldom have guests in our lodge." His eyes went down to the baby. "He will most likely insist on being a very gracious host. And by that I mean he will probably talk your leg off until he finally falls asleep. And from experience, we will tell you he is a very good talker."

Taking a chance, Dunsmore put out his arms and Ken-tah-teh went to him. The older man sat him on his knee and continued the horseback ride, much to the baby's delight. "The sound of a baby's voice will be a welcome change to soldiers, politicians, -and angry colonists. I thank you again and accept your invitation."

Songbird put the last stitch in the pair of buckskin pants she was mending for Ken-tah-teh.

"We need to get you a pair of blue trousers like your father's, Ken-tah-teh," Dunsmore said.

Songbird smiled, "One day we will, but he grows out of them so quickly that buckskin is best for now. It is hard enough to keep Mingo's trousers mended and the blue material he prefers Cincinnatus has to get in Salem."

"Yes, I remember, Edmund-I mean Mingo seemed to grow taller every time I turned around. It looks as though you are going to be as tall as your father, Ken-tah-teh."

"And grandfather," Songbird added. The beautiful Choctaw woman stood up. "I need to go do some work in our garden. Don't I remember, Mingo, that you and Ken-tah-teh were going to go catch us some fish for our evening meal? Maybe John would like to go with you."

The baby was content to stop bouncing when he heard what his mother said.

"Fish," he repeated.

"I should like that very much," Dunsmore said, still holding his grandson, as he and Mingo stood up. "I cannot tell you the last time I went fishing."

Mingo reached over and tousled the black hair on Ken-tah-teh's head. "Fish it will be then for Mama. Let me get my rifle and pack and we will head to the river."

Blue Belle began pawing at the ground and shaking her head. Mingo looked over at the mare.

"What's bothering her?"

"Oh, she is fine," her owner said. "Ken-tah-teh and I will go check on her while you get your things."

When Mingo came out of the lodge, he was wearing his vest and weapon belt, carrying his rifle and pack. He walked over to where his father was holding Ken-tah-teh on the back of the mare.

"What was bothering her?" Mingo asked.

"Oh she has a colt who she was not happy leaving behind at Porto Bello. She has to let me know every once in a while. You know how a mother can be when she is away from her child," Dunsmore said.

Mingo turned to his son who was happy to be on horseback.

"Come, Ken-tah-teh, we will let Blue Bell stay here and rest while we go fishing."

Birch Tree River was a short walk from the lodge. The three men left Songbird to her garden and ventured out to provide for their evening meal. Ken-tah-teh walked between his father and grandfather for most of the way. When his little legs finally tired out he looked up to Mingo.

"Up me, Papa," his arms in the air.

Mingo easily swung him up on his shoulders so he could ride the rest of the way.

"Ken-tah-teh," Dunsmore asked. "Where did you go? I can't see you through your Papa's feathers?"

When they reached the river, Mingo put the baby down. A large log was conveniently located on the bank of the river. Ken-tah-teh ran over to it, stopped and turned waiting for them to join him.

"By the look of him," the older man said. "It would seem you have fished here before."

"Oh yes," Mingo pointed out. "This is our secret fishing spot, isn't it, Ken-tah-teh?"

"Fish," the baby agreed.

Ken-tah-teh climbed up and over the log and by the time the two men got to him, he was already leaning back on the fallen tree.

"Well, may we join you?" his grandfather asked him and started to sit down on the baby's right.

"No, Papa," Ken-tah-teh said.

"I apologize, Father, but he is used to me sitting there."

"Oh, by all means," Dunsmore laughed. "You know that water looks inviting. I think I am going to get a drink first."  
The tall man laid flat on the ground, put his lips in the cool water and drank.

"That does taste good," he said and sat up. "Ken-tah-teh, would you like a drink?"

The baby got up and went over to his grandfather who had filled his cupped hands with water. He drank all the water and turned back to his father.

"Tah-teh drink," the water dribbled down his chin. "Grand fodder."

"Tah-teh?" Dunsmore remarked.

Mingo rolled his eyes, "Yes, we have Daniel to thank for that." The Cherokee man found the fishing poles which they had hidden behind the log. He tossed his line into the water. "He insists on calling him that."

Dunsmore and Ken-tah-teh joined Mingo at the log.

"Ah yes, Mr. Boone, a most honorable adversary if I may say so. And a delightful family of his own as I recall."

"Yes, they are," Mingo patted the ground between them. "Come and sit, Ken-tah-teh." He knew if the little one sat still for any length of time, he would fall asleep. And he was right. Safe between his father and grandfather, warm sun overhead and the lull of a rolling river, Ken-tah-teh was soon asleep.

It gave the estranged father and son a chance to talk of many things, land, liberty, freedom, family and the future. Three hours later, amidst the snores of the slumbering baby, and several fine rainbow trout for Songbird to cook for their dinner, they agreed to disagree and to honor each other's views.

So Lord Dunsmore, the Governor General of Virginia, miles away from his former residence, the Governor's Palace in Williamsburg spent a warm and dry evening in the little lodge by Birch Tree River. Enjoying the fish they had caught and the company of his son, daughter-in-law, and grandson, Dunsmore slept soundly, once he was finally allowed to sleep.

Mingo was correct, it took a little while for Ken-tah-teh to settle down for the night with a visitor in their lodge. In bed between his mother and father, he kept sitting up and pointing to the extra bunk.

"Grand fodder?" And his parents would answer, "Yes, grandfather." Until finally Songbird put her finger on his lips. "Shh, Ken-tah-teh, grandfather is sleeping."

The baby was quiet for a minute or so, then "Grand fodder sleep?"

"Yes," Mingo answered, "And now Ken-tah-teh sleep too."

Finally all that could be heard inside the little lodge was the crackling of a fire warming the family inside.

In the morning, after their early meal together, Dunsmore gave his grandson one more ride on Blue Belle. He climbed up in the saddle, and took Ken-tah-teh up with him. They rode down to the river and back, too short a ride for the baby who was holding onto the reins along with his grandfather when they returned.

"He is a natural rider, Mingo. You had better get him a pony of his own soon." Dunsmore got off of the horse, but the baby held on tight. "Come, Ken-tah-teh, Grandfather must be on his way." The older man put out his arms and the baby went to him. "I promise Blue and I will come back and visit." He hugged the little one. "You are a good boy." Mingo heard him say. "And you will grow up to be a fine man like your father."

"And his grandfather as well," Mingo added. "You know, Father, you are welcome to stay longer."

"Thank you, Mingo, but some urgent business arose on my journey here, something that needs my attention now. I need to meet Robley in Salem. He had hoped to accompany me here to see you, but I had to send him on an important errand for me."

"Maybe on your next visit, he can come with you," Mingo said.

Dunsmore, who was still holding the baby nodded,

"I will make certain that he comes with me next time."

Songbird had not come out of the lodge yet to join them. It was still just the three men standing by the mare.

"Mingo," Dunsmore said, "There is something I need to speak with you about. And I already know what your reaction is going to be, but it makes no difference, it is done and you cannot stop it."

Terrible thoughts raced through Mingo's head. His chest tightened up as he felt the anger surging. He had a good idea what his father was going to say. The honorable Lord Dunsmore was going to insist on taking Ken-tah-teh with him to London to raise and educate him. But it would never happen. Before the Cherokee man could object, his father continued.

"I have already made provisions for my sons to receive equal inheritances when I am gone, some of which I have already put into bank accounts. Your share I have set up in the Bank of Salem under the name Edmund Murray. They would not set up an account in just the name Mingo, so I used your given name. It is there whenever you need it. The balance will be deposited equally at the time of my death." All the while he laid out his intentions to Mingo, Dunsmore swayed in a back and forth motion. The result was the baby had laid his head on the older man's shoulder and fallen asleep.

"That is not necessary, Father. I have no need-" Mingo started to say.

"I know that it is not necessary," Dunsmore said. "It is what it is, and that is that. The money is there now whether you choose to use it or not. I know very well, Mingo that you can and will provide for your family. Your Cherokee pride and honor runs deep. But who is to say that one day Ken-tah-teh may not want to be the first Cherokee-Choctaw-English student to graduate from William and Mary College? An education is not inexpensive. I should like to think I may have helped in giving him one, if he so chooses." He gently rubbed the sleeping baby's back. "He is the future, the growth, even his name says so, the promise, no matter how this conflict turns out."

Mingo listened and thought twice before continuing his objections. His stubbornness he knew came from his father, listening and patience from his mother. He rubbed his side which had begun to itch. Healing, Mingo thought, maybe it was time. As he watched his father holding Ken-tah-teh, maybe it was time to work on healing the distance between his father and himself.

Songbird came out of their lodge carrying Dunsmore's saddle pack. She had filled it with supplies for his journey. "I put in some of Mingo's favorite corn cakes, some sassafras for tea, and some apples for Blue Belle. Those are from Ken-tah-teh," she said.

Dunsmore stood, still holding tight to the sleeping baby. "Thank you, Songbird. I am so very glad I got to meet you."

Mingo took the pack from her and tied it to his father's saddle. The mare curiously swung her head back to see what he was doing. "Good girl," he rubbed her nose, reached in the pack and gave her one of the apples.  
"Well," Dunsmore said. "I must be going." Reluctantly he handed Ken-tah-teh to his mother. When he did, he took hold of the cameo necklace she was wearing.

"A gift from my husband," she smiled at Mingo.

"I thought I recognized it," Dunsmore remarked. "Talota would have loved you, Songbird. And the joy Ken-tah-teh would have given her-" His voice began to break and he cleared his throat. "Well, it is time for this old man to be on his way." He took Songbird's hand in both of his, and very gently kissed it. "I am proud to have you as my daughter-in-law. It is good to see Mingo so happy and content."

"Please come back and visit us, John," Songbird told him.

"When this is all over, I will do just that," he answered. The older man reached over and softly touched the baby's cheek. "Sleep well, Ken-tah-teh, be safe, and grow into a fine man like your father."

Songbird took the baby and walked over to their garden. Mingo knew why. She was letting them say their goodbyes in private. Dunsmore waved to her, then turned facing the Cherokee warrior before him. Neither knew what or how to say farewell. Realizing it couldn't have been easy for his father to come, Mingo spoke first.

"Father, these words do not come easy for me to say to you. I am proud and stubborn when it comes to my Cherokee heritage. I come by that stubbornness naturally." A tiny smile appeared on the Englishman's face. Mingo continued, "I appreciate you coming to visit and to meet my family. It means more to me than you know. It was a long journey, and not without danger traveling alone. I am beginning to understand why you took me back to London with you. I may never agree with it, but I do realize the benefits of the education and the life you tried to give me-proper though they may have been. Please know you are welcome here always. I know I speak for Songbird and for Ken-tah-teh. It is good he has met his 'Grand-fodder' and when he is old enough I will make certain he understands you are more than just Blue Belle's owner."

That made both men laugh.

Dunsmore placed his hand on Mingo's shoulder.

"Mingo, you have had to overcome so many obstacles in your life. And you have done it with such honor and strength of purpose. You could have had, and still could have, the life of an English aristocrat. Yet you have chosen to live the simpler, but harder life of your Cherokee heritage in this untamed wilderness. And even here, as I know you were forced to deal with in London, you face the difficulties of mixed blood."

Dunsmore looked around at the little lodge surrounded by white birch trees and tall pines within the sights and sounds of the Birch Tree River. He looked over at Songbird who was now working in their garden. Ken-tah-teh was still asleep, lying on the ground beside her.

"I can see now you have made the right choice. I will never feel I was wrong to take you back with me to England, but it is quite obvious to me your heart belongs with the Cherokee. I am proud to call you my son." The older man put out his hand and Mingo took it. "I will not say goodbye, but farewell until an understanding comes between my country and yours." He climbed on the back of his mare. "Here is hoping our next meeting will be under peaceful skies in the land you call Ken-tah-teh." He looked over once more at the sleeping baby. "Yes, a very good name, Ken-tah-teh.

Mingo watched his father ride away until he was no longer in sight, then he joined his family in the garden by their lodge. It had been a good two days with family, old and new.

**Chapter 13**

Inside the walls of Boonesborough, late afternoon sunbeams shone through the windows of the general store and tavern. The rays of light were filled with swirling dust particles emanating from the broom of the proprietor.

"Jericho Jones! Where in tarnation are you?!" Cincinnatus shouted. "This is what I pay you for!" When the knob to the front door began to turn, the tavern-keeper grabbed it. "It's about time you got here, Jericho!" It was not the younger Jones who entered, but the four surveyors who had left the establishment several hours before.

"I do apologize, Cincinnatus, we are not Jericho," John Eliot said. He entered, followed by his brother, Cameron, Reese Gaylord, and Simon Briggs. "I told you we would be back to buy a round for the house before we take our leave."

Cincinnatus put the broom aside and went behind the bar. "So I take it you fellers finished yer surveyin' job today?" He set up several tankards of rum on the bar. There were only four other patrons in the tavern. Tupper and Isaac were in front of the fireplace, playing checkers, and two trappers who were eating at one of the back tables. Ten minutes and nine tankards later, all the men in the room had a drink in front of them, at the expense of the Eliot brothers. Cincinnatus took the money John Eliot had placed on the bar. "Where's Yancy? He don't usually pass up a free tankard of rum."

The older Eliot brother laughed, "Yancy went home to his family as soon as I informed him that we were finished. I do believe he was quite happy to be rid of us."

"Oh don't mind Yancy," Cincinnatus said. "He's a real family man. That brood of his means more to him than anythin' else." The tavern-keeper tried not to let on, but he would be happy to be rid of them himself. Now he would be able to go fishing with Mingo and Daniel in two days. Since the surveyors had been staying at the tavern, he hadn't been hunting or fishing with them. He missed that. "So you gents have another job lined up or are ya gonna take some time off?"

"Actually, Cincinnatus, we do have another job lined up, but not in this area. We will be heading south first thing in the morning."

The four of them were up early the next morning, just as John Eliot had said. After a simple meal of mush and coffee, they packed up their belongings, bought some supplies from Cincinnatus and bid him goodbye. He watched as they got their horses from the stable and rode through the gate of the fort. The next time he saw them would be too soon, Cincinnatus thought to himself. Now maybe his life would get back to normal and a day of fishing with his friends, Daniel and Mingo, was going to be a good start.

Mingo kissed his beautiful wife and baby goodbye. This morning, however, one day after his father, John Murray, had bid them farewell, it was not Mingo leaving on a journey, but Songbird and Ken-tah-teh. The last time Little Beaver and Young Raven paid them a visit to see how Mingo was healing, they brought with them a message from Wildflower and Chief Standing Bear, Songbird's parents. They hoped for a visit from their daughter and grandson, and Mingo if he felt up to the travel.

It was a full day's walk to the Choctaw village, even for Mingo and Daniel's long legs. For a mother and baby it would be a much longer trip. When Cincinnatus got word of their upcoming journey he offered the services of his riding horse, Applejack. Only hours after Dunsmore had left for Salem, Cincinnatus came riding up on his ten year old sorrel. "Jack" as he was called by most, including Ken-tah-teh, who shouted out his name whenever he saw the horse, was a gentle animal. He had a blonde mane and tail, and his coat was the color of apple jack cider, a favorite seasonal libation at Cincinnatus' tavern. In the bartender's own words, "It's when sweet apple cider gets a little too fermented for women and children, but a real tasty drink for the men folk who might find their way to his establishment."

Ken-tah-teh was overjoyed, only hours after saying goodbye to Blue Belle, Applejack showed up at his door. "Jack!" the baby shouted as Cincinnatus rode up on him.

"Keep him as long as you like, Songbird," he said. "He could use the exercise of a good trail ride." The tavern keeper started to walk back towards the fort then turned, "Oh and I packed some of that tobacco your father likes. And don't worry Songbird, me and Daniel will check on yer husband!"

Mingo tied Songbird's pack and his bedroll to Jack's saddle. He hung their water pouch on the saddle horn.  
"Are you sure you do not want to come with us, Mingo?" Songbird asked her husband. "We will not be gone any longer than the next time the moon is full."

Mingo hadn't really told Songbird for certain he would not be traveling with them. But he knew he could not fool her for very long. He was glad they had Jack to ride; it would cut the trip in half. It would not be a dangerous journey for them and he knew his wife could take care of herself on the trail. She handed the baby to Mingo. The Cherokee leaned back and looked at their lodge.

"You and Ken-tah-teh go and have a good visit. I plan to catch up on some needed repairs which I let go while I was healing. The roof of our lodge and the root cellar both need some work and then-"  
Songbird put her finger across his lips, "And then fishing with Daniel and Cincinnatus?" She finished his sentence for him.

Mingo stepped back, feigning surprise. He grinned at his son, "Now, Mama, where did you get an idea like that?  
She softly kissed him, "My husband talks in his sleep." She said and climbed up onto the back of the horse.  
"I do not," Mingo quickly shot back. He could see the teasing smile on his wife's beautiful face. He kissed Ken-tah-teh and sat him in the saddle, in front of his mother.

"Papa, Po, fish," the baby stated loudly. "Tah-teh, po-nee." He took hold of Jack's mane as if to say to his father, you go fishing, I am riding on a horse.

Mingo gently touched the baby's nose, "Now I know how Mama found out about my plans. That was to be our secret, Ken-tah-teh." But the baby was occupied with something else-a pony. Songbird had her arms around Ken-tah-teh, holding the reins. She leaned down and gave her husband another kiss. "Have a good visit and tell Wildflower and Chief Standing Bear hello from me, and Running Deer. Be a good boy for Mama, Ken-tah-teh. I love you both."

Songbird nudged the horse's side with her heel. Jack began walking down the trail. Mingo watched until he could no longer see them. It still being early morning, they should be at the village by sunset, allowing for one or two stops along the way.

After three hours of working on the roof of their lodge Mingo was finished. He climbed down the ladder and went to the rain barrel for a drink, laughing when he saw the wooden bucket sitting on the ground. It reminded him of how Ken-tah-teh helped him carry it over to his father's mare to give her a drink. 'Blue Belle drink.' He could almost hear his son say.

Mingo took the last swallow of cold water from the cup that always hung by the rain barrel. The sun had warmed the day nicely, so he filled the basin and washed up. He wondered how far his family had gotten. They had only been gone a few hours and he missed them already. A month was a long time to go without a hug from Songbird and Ken-tah-teh. Mingo knew he would not be able to go that long and planned to go to the Choctaw village and make the journey back home with them.

Right now a cup of tea and a dish of Songbird's rabbit stew sounded like a good idea. Then he needed to make certain his fishing pole was ready for tomorrow because he knew that Cincinnatus would make some sort of wager as to who the best fisherman was.

Mingo leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment. The stew was warming over their outdoor fire ring, along with the water for his tea. A nest of baby robins in a nearby tree were letting their mother know they were hungry too. With the return of their mother and a fat worm, it wasn't long before they quieted down. Mingo touched the teapot, "Ow!" he pulled his hand back from the hot teapot. The cry of a blue jay filled the air. Often a warning of an intruder in the area, the Cherokee reached for his rifle. He was not fast enough. Two men wearing masks came from behind him. They grabbed his arms and got him to his feet.

"What do you want?" Mingo asked, but the two men said nothing. "If it is money you are after, I have none. If it is food you are welcome to look in the root cellar over there." Both men looked in the direction Mingo nodded towards. When they did, the Cherokee caught the one on his left unaware. With one sweep of his leg he knocked the man off his feet and to the ground. His left arm now free he threw a powerful punch to the other man's jaw, sending him to the ground as well.

Quickly, Mingo picked up his rifle and pointed it at the two dazed men. "Now then, Gentlemen, I will ask you once again. What is going on here?" There was no response from either man. "I am losing my patience. You have one minute to take off those masks and tell me what you want or I will begin shooting."

He cocked his rifle. Finally, the first man he sent to the ground spoke,

"You only got one shot, Injun."

Mingo smiled, "You are correct, Sir. And after I have shot you, I will kill your associate with my tomahawk and then I will scalp you both.

The two men looked at each other.

"I have already proven that I am faster than you," Mingo told them. "Now then you have ten seconds left."  
"I would not be so hasty, Mr. Murray," a British speaking voice came from behind him. "Lest you endanger the life of your own family." Mingo then heard the click of a hammer on two rifles. When he turned around, Mingo understood what the voice meant.

There were two more masked men. One rifle was pointed at him. It belonged to the man with the British accent. The other was pointed at Songbird and Ken-tah-teh who stood a short distance away with the second man. Mingo's heart pounded in his chest, as he let his own rifle fall to the ground. The look on Songbird's face let him know they had not been harmed. The baby was asleep in his mother's arms.

The man Mingo sent to the ground first, stood up, grabbed the Cherokee's arms and tied his hands tight behind him. The second man disarmed Mingo of his knife and tomahawk. Then in retaliation for his own sore mouth, he reached back and hit the Cherokee, not once but twice in the jaw. Mingo could taste blood in his mouth, but did not move.

The man readied his fist for one more round at the Indian, but the Englishman stopped him.

"That is enough-for now," he said. The other man backed off immediately.

Even though they wore masks, Mingo thought he recognized the first two men as two of the surveyors Yancy was working with. When the second two joined them, his suspicions were confirmed. Their clothes and the fact that the man who seemed to be in charge had a British accent gave them away. He knew better than to let on.

"Again I am confused as to what you after. We have nothing of wealth as you can see."

"Oh but I beg to differ," John Eliot said behind his mask. "You have much wealth, the wealth of your father. And do not deny that Lord Dunsmore is your father."

Mingo kept a watchful eye on the other man, whose gun was pointed at his family.

"I do not deny it. Anyone who knows me knows I am half English and Lord Dunsmore is my father. But I have no access to his wealth. If you want that you will have to visit him in Williamsburg. In fact, truth be known, I have not seen my father in two years."

The man turned his rifle around and thrust the butt end into the Cherokee's right side. The rib which was almost healed was now most certainly bruised again. Mingo clenched his jaw to try and check the pain.  
Songbird took a step toward her husband, but a rifle waving in her face stopped her, "No, please do not hurt him," she shouted. The commotion woke the sleeping baby in her arms.

"Papa," he cried when he saw his father. Ken-tah-teh put out his arms toward the captive Mingo.

"Keep them quiet!" John Eliot yelled to his brother, Cameron. Then he turned back to his prisoner. "Do not lie to me, Indian. Your father was just here for a visit. He only left yesterday morning on that pretty Arabian mare of his to go back to Salem, where in fact he has deposited in the bank a tidy sum of money in your name. We heard everything he said to you. "

Mingo was looking at his little son and not at the Englishman talking to him. John Eliot placed the long, cold barrel of his rifle to Mingo's cheek and forced the Cherokee to look back at him-and listen.

"Are you going to deny that your father just left here?"

Mingo had gotten his breath back enough to speak, "Obviously not. Let my family go. I will accompany you to Salem and you are welcome to all of the money my father has deposited for me. I have no need of it. I just want my family safe."

Eliot lowered his rifle, but it was still pointed at Mingo's chest.

"Now that is good to hear, Indian. If you have no need of money then I will make the ransom amount even more than I had originally planned."

"Ransom?" Mingo asked. "There is no need for a ransom. Let my family go and I assure you the money will be yours, no questions asked."

John Eliot shook his head, "No questions asked eh? And you can speak for your father as well I presume?" He laughed, "So you will accompany us to Salem, and then on the trail your friend, Boone, will come to your rescue. No, I think not. Moreover I have a score to settle with John Murray and having him hand over a large sum of money to me and my associates will do just that."

Mingo struggled, but the ropes were just too tight around his wrists.

"What makes you think my father is going to pay a ransom for my family? He has no feelings for Indians."  
"On the contrary, Mingo," Eliot looked at Songbird and Ken-tah-teh, and then looked back at Mingo. "I saw how your father carried that baby around. He will pay the ransom."

"Papa, Papa," the baby began to cry out for his father.

"Please," Mingo asked. "Let me see my family."

John Eliot nodded to his brother who let Songbird and Ken-tah-teh join Mingo.

"Papa," the baby repeated and put out his arms to his father, whose hands were still tightly tied behind his back. "Papa," Ken-tah-teh said again and began to cry. He didn't understand why his Papa would not take him.  
"Sh, sh," Songbird tried to comfort her son, but the baby continued his pleas.

"No, Papa, Tah-teh," and his sobs became louder.

Mingo looked at the ringleader.

"Untie my hands and let me take him. I will do whatever you ask, sign whatever you want, but please let me hold my son."

Eliot motioned to the two men who still stood behind Mingo. Simon Briggs responded by cutting the ropes on the Cherokee's wrists. Mingo quickly took Ken-tah-teh from Songbird and wrapped his arms around both of them.  
"Hush, Little Warrior," he dried the baby's tears.

"Papa," the baby murmured with a tiny sob still in his voice.

"Sh, sh," Mingo held him close and whispered, "Papa loves you, Ken-tah-teh."

The baby laid his head on his father's shoulder and quieted down. Mingo looked at Songbird, whose face showed the concern of a wife for her husband. Her eyes fell to his side where a blood had begun to soak through his vest.  
"They hurt you?" she asked him.

"No, it is fine. Really. Have they hurt you?"

Songbird shook her head. "No, they have not hurt us."

Mingo could see that John Eliot was getting nervous. He leaned in, kissed Songbird on the cheek and whispered to her. "Do whatever they say and I promise I will come after you. As long as they keep their masks on you will be safe."

"Enough talk!" Eliot said and motioned to Cameron to bring Apple Jack over. "It is time to go."  
Mingo held on to the baby who was almost asleep while Songbird got on Jack. He kissed Ken-tah-teh and handed him to her. "I love you, Songbird," he said.

She reached down and touched his cheek. "I love you, Mingo. Please be careful."  
Cameron Eliot was already on his horse.

"Go ahead," John Eliot told him. "We will catch up with you after our Indian here signs the ransom note."  
Mingo watched as his family rode out of site along side an armed man wearing a mask. His insides churned in fear for their lives.

"Now then, Mr. Mingo," John Eliot said. "If you ever want to see your family again-alive, you will sign this note which will be delivered to your father." The masked man handed Mingo a piece of rolled up parchment paper. It read:  
'Please pay what these men ask for. They have my wife and son,  
and will kill them if you don't.'

He tried to hide the trembling in his hands as he read the note.

"How do you plan to find my father?"

"You forget," Eliot continued. "I heard all that your father said. And if you recall he said he had business in Salem for a few days before leaving for New York. That is plenty of time for us to find him I believe."

"Salem is a very large city and with many people," Mingo answered.

Eliot shot back, "Oh, I shouldn't think it hard to find the Governor General of Virginia, even if he is traveling-light shall we say. I do not foresee John Murray staying anywhere but the finest establishment in the city."  
This man had planned this out very carefully, Mingo thought to himself. And he wondered just what history he had with his father. But his family's safety was at stake. He had to do whatever they told him to do and hoped his father would do the same. Mingo held up the note.

"I have nothing to write with?"

Eliot looked down at the fire where the pot of rabbit stew was still warming. He reached down, picked up a stick burnt at the end and handed it to the Cherokee man. Mingo took it, but struggled with the rolled up parchment.

"Allow me," Eliot turned his back to make it easier for the prisoner to sign. Under different circumstances, this would be Mingo's chance to disarm all three men. He knew he was faster and more agile than they were, but he could not take the chance. His family was still with the other man down the trail. The Cherokee forcefully dotted the 'I' in Mingo and handed the note back to Eliot who put it in his inside coat pocket. "Splendid," Eliot answered and motioned to Gaylord who grabbed Mingo's arms and tied his hands tight behind him again.

"When will I see my family again?"

John Eliot crossed his arms, "If all goes as planned and your father does what he is instructed, we will have our money and you should have your family back in four or five days. But-"he said, poking his finger into Mingo's chest. "If you or anyone of your friends follows us, if we see anything out of the ordinary, or if your father tries anything funny you will never see your family again-alive that is."

Mingo looked Eliot straight in the eye, "If anything happens to my family, anything, you had better make certain I am dead because there is no where on this earth you will be able to hide. I will find you. And I will kill you." He turned and looked at the two other men behind him. "All of you."

"Idle threats from a man in your position," Briggs said, poking his rifle barrel into Mingo's side. The Cherokee flinched slightly.

"I do not make idle threats, sir."

"Enough!" John Eliot barked. "You are wasting precious time that your family does not have." He stepped away from Mingo and nodded for Reese Gaylord to join him. "Put him inside his dwelling there. Bind his feet as well and gag him. He must not be able to follow us. We need time to get to Salem. Do you understand me?" Gaylord nodded yes and started back toward Mingo, but Eliot grabbed him. "One more thing, make certain the Indian knows we mean business, if you know what I mean. Then catch up with us on the trail."  
"Yes sir," Gaylord answered.

He watched as Gaylord and Briggs forced Mingo into his lodge. As he mounted his horse, Eliot lowered his mask and smiled. He could hear the two men carrying out his orders. Digging his heels into the horse's sides, he rode out to catch up with his brother and their hostages, then on to Salem, and Lord Dunsmore.

**Chapter 14**

Two men walked slowly, side by side, through the Kentucky woodlands. The morning sun lit the trail as they got closer to the lodge of the Choctaw-Cherokee family. One was tall as the white birch trees which lined the nearby Birch Tree River. Carrying his long rifle and a fishing pole, his coonskin cap only added to his height. The other man was older and shorter in stature, partly because of all the fishing extras he carried on his shoulders, along with his rifle and fishing pole.

"Cincinnatus, you really think all that hardware is gonna help you catch more fish than Mingo?" The taller man asked his friend.

The older man with the gray beard and tri-corner hat stopped to rest.

"Dan'l, in this here basket I got bait that injun of yours never even heared of." Cincinnatus slapped the basket which hung at his side. "It's a secret bait that'll make those trout sit up and jump on my line while the two of you snore the day away like you always do."

Daniel smiled, "And the net?"

Cincinnatus reached with one hand, then the other, but couldn't grab the fishing net which hung from the back of his belt.

"Here, let me help ya," the big man handed the net to his friend.

"I'm gonna need this," Cincinnatus grabbed it and started swinging it through the air. "Gonna catch so many fish, you boys will be beggin' me for some."

Daniel nodded, "Well I hope so, Cincinnatus. That way me and Mingo can have a good, long nap while you do all the work."

"I shoulda knowed you'd find some way to make my plan work to your advantage," Cincinnatus snarled. "Seems you two scallywags always do." But he had a smile on his bearded face when he said so.

"Here let me help you with some of that gear," the big man reached over and took the net.

"Thanks a lot, Dan'l. Don't hurt yerself!"

"Come on, Cincinnatus, Tah-teh will be waiting to pull Eeooww's beard."

"Right behind you, Dan'l."

Inside his lodge Mingo could not move. The two masked men had carried out their orders successfully. They started beating him, and when he attempted to escape, Reese Gaylord hit him over the head with his rifle. He woke up once in complete darkness so he knew it was night. Bound, hands and feet, and gagged, they had tied him face down on his bed before they left. The Cherokee struggled so hard to get loose he finally passed out again.

This time when he woke, Mingo could see daylight through the door. Still unable to get free his only consolation was that Daniel and Cincinnatus should be there soon. The throbbing pain in his head where the rifle butt had struck him was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. He feared for his wife and son's safety. "Please Great Spirit, keep them safe, until I can reach them," Mingo prayed as he lay and listened for any type of sound outside of the lodge.

When Daniel and Cincinnatus reached the clearing that led to Mingo and Songbird's lodge they stopped. Force of habit and safety, in these times, one always checks before stepping into an open space. The clearing was empty so they continued on. Cincinnatus sniffed the air.

"Mmmm, that's strange. Can't smell any coffee. Mingo always has mornin' coffee goin' when he knows we're comin',"

'Well, Cincinnatus, maybe Mingo ain't got around to makin' any coffee yet. Maybe Tah-teh is keepin' his Papa busy this mornin'."

The older man's head was shaking, "You know how Mingo hates you calling his boy, Tah-teh. I can hear him now, 'it is Ken-tah-teh, Daniel, Ken-tah-teh.'"

The big man laughed at Cincinnatus' perfect impression of their Cherokee friend, "I know," Daniel added. "Makes that red skin of his even redder."

The little lodge by Birch Tree River was now in sight. Daniel cupped his hands together and was just about to signal their arrival to Mingo and his family when Cincinnatus stopped dead in his tracks.

"What's wrong?" Daniel asked him.

"Shhhh, Dan'l. You don't 'spose Mingo and Songbird are-?"

"What?' The big man continued, playing the fool, when all the time he knew what Cincinnatus was reluctant to say out loud.

"You know," the older man nodded toward the lodge.

"Cincinnatus, what in tarnation are you talking about?"

"Sparkin'! Sparkin', Dan'l! There I said it. Are you satisfied? Mingo and Songbird are a young couple, ya know. Not an ol' married couple like you and Becky. You already got all your young'uns, but they're just startin' out."  
"Now hold on there, Cincinnatus. Becky and me been married a lot longer than Mingo and Songbird, but that don't mean we don't still-you know." The big man was defending himself.

"Spark, Dan'l?" the older man cackled. He had turned the tables on his big friend.

Daniel grabbed the fishing net and put it over Cincinnatus' head. It didn't stop the older man. He was still cackling.  
"I'm gonna let you in on a little secret, Cincinnatus," the big man said while removing the fishing net from his friend's head. "Me and Mingo got a signal for just that very situation, us being married men and all."

"A signal?" the little man asked.

Daniel nodded yes.

"A sparkin' signal?" Cincinnatus snickered.

"You want to hear it or not?" The big man asked him.

" 'Course I do, Dan'l."

"All right then. If Mingo comes to the cabin and sees my coonskin cap sittin' on the porch step, he knows it ain't a good time to come visitin' Likewise if I come to Mingo's lodge and see his feathers hangin' on the door-"

Cincinnatus finished his sentence, "Ain't a good time for a visit?"

"That's right."

"Hmmmm," Cincinnatus mumbled. "Wonder if maybe I better set up a signal like that for you two boys, seein' how you like to come to the tavern any hour of the day or night. Who knows I might be sparkin' too."

Daniel's face lit up, "Somethin' you keepin' from us, Cincinnatus? It's that Widow Baker ain't it? You been seein'that widow on the sly. Wait 'til I tell Becky and Mingo. I can't wait to tell Mingo."

Cincinnatus stomped the ground in disgust.

"You just keep quiet, Dan'l. Let's go see what Mingo and Songbird and Ken-tah-teh are up to." Then he stopped again. "Wait a minute. I just remembered-there ain't no sparkin' goin' on on account of Songbird and Ken-tah-teh went for a visit to see her folks. I brought Apple Jack out for them to ride yesterday."

"Whew!" Daniel said. "Glad that settled then. Let's go get Mingo and get to fishin'." Again he cupped his hands together, put them up to his mouth and made the sound of a whip-poor-will, a signal to let Mingo know they were coming. There was no answer. He called a second time and still no answer. Daniel put down his fishing pole and net. Cincinnatus did the same with his gear

"Let's go, Cincinnatus." Quietly, rifles at the ready, they approached the lodge. "Hello, anybody home?" Daniel shouted out.

Cincinnatus went over by the fire and bent down. It was cold. "I don't like this, Daniel. Looky here, whatever was in this kettle is burnt black and the tea pot is burned dry."

A noise from inside the lodge had both men turn and point their rifles at the door.

"Mingo?" Daniel shouted out. A muffled grunt came from the lodge. Both men entered slowly, only to see their friend bound, gagged, and tied to his bed. With one tall glance Daniel could see there was no one else in the lodge. He put Ticklicker on the ground, took his knife from his boot and began cutting the ropes that held Mingo to the bed. Cincinnatus did the same, cutting the ropes from his hands and feet.

"Take it easy, Mingo. We'll have you loose in just a minute," Daniel said. With the ropes cut he sat him up on the bed and carefully removed the gag from Mingo's mouth. Cincinnatus came back with a cup of water from the rain barrel. The Cherokee coughed, struggling to talk, but his mouth and throat were too dry.

"Here, Mingo, take a drink, slow now," Cincinnatus told him. "Small swallows first."

The cold water actually burned as Mingo followed Cincinnatus' instructions and took one sip, then another. He choked as he tried to tell them what happened.

"Songbird, Ken-tah-teh, have to find them," the Cherokee man started to stand up, but they sat him back down on the bed.

"Easy does it," Cincinnatus started to tend to the cut over Mingo's right eye where Gaylord's rifle butt had hit him. Daniel handed him another cup of water. "Here Mingo, take another drink and tell us what happened."  
Mingo swallowed and took a deep breath.

"Four men wearing masks," his normally deep voice was raspy. "They have Songbird and Ken-tah-teh and are asking a king's ransom to get them back." He coughed again.

"And just where do they think you are going to get a King's ransom?" Cincinnatus asked.

Mingo looked at them both. "My father," he answered, his voice was beginning to come back.

Daniel took the cup from Mingo's hand, "Do you have any idea who these men are, that they would know who your father is?"

Mingo nodded, "I am certain they are the surveyors Yancy was guiding. Two of them were English, were they not, Cincinnatus?"

"Yes they were, John Eliot and his brother, Cameron," the bearded man answered.

"I thought so," Mingo continued. "I do not know why, but they have a score to settle with my father and my family is the bait. They heard him say that he put money in the Salem bank for me. They made me sign a ransom note, and are holding Songbird and Ken-tah-teh prisoner. They said if I or anyone else tries to follow them, I will never see my family alive again."

The distraught Cherokee man hesitated, "Their plan is to find my father in Salem, and make him pay the ransom." He started to stand, but sat back down when his head began to spin.

"How long ago did they leave, Mingo" Daniel asked him.

"What time of day is it now, Daniel?'

The big man peeked outside, "Bout midday, I'd say."

"Then they have been gone about twenty four hours," Mingo answered.

Daniel stood, pondering the outdoors. "Well they should be in Salem by now, with a good riding horse. But I doubt if they'd take Songbird and Ken-tah-teh with them to the city. I stake my life they got them hold up somewhere to draw your father out with the money. I'm going to have a little look-see around."

Mingo stood, and remained standing this time, "Be careful, Daniel! Did you hear what I said? They will kill Songbird and Ken-tah-teh if they see anyone following."

Cincinnatus put his hand on Mingo's shoulder, "Now Mingo, I know that Dan'l is as big as a giant sycamore tree, but if anyone can find a trail and not be seen doin' it, it's him."

"Then I am coming with you, Daniel," Mingo looked around for his rifle.

"No you ain't, Mingo," Daniel answered. "Listen to me, I'm gonna take a quick look around and see if I can pick up a trail. Then I'll be back here and we'll figure out a plan. By the looks of that blood on your shirt you ain't in any shape to travel. By the time Cincinnatus finishes patching you up, and fix you something to eat I'll be back, I promise."  
"But," The Cherokee started to say.

"No buts," Daniel said, "Besides you said yourself that these men were real careful 'bout keeping their masks on. That's to our advantage and to Songbird's and Ken-tah-teh. I'll be back directly." The big man said and went out the door.

"If you are not back in an hour, Daniel, I will begin my own search," Mingo shouted. Then he sat back down on the bed and let Cincinnatus tend to his wounds.

An hour passed before Daniel returned. It was all Cincinnatus could do to keep Mingo from starting out on his own, but he convinced him to wait. Daniel's whip-poor-will call brought both Mingo and Cincinnatus to their feet. The big man came through the door of the lodge.

"I think I found their trail, five horses, heading in the direction of Salem."

"Let's go," Mingo grabbed his weapon belt and flinched a little when he put it on. Cincinnatus had cleaned the wound on Mingo's side and tied a bandage tight around his rib cage.

"Let's give Dan'l a chance to catch his breath, Mingo, and hear what he has to say. I'm sure he's got a plan, ain't ya, Dan'l?" Cincinnatus poured a cup of coffee and gave it to the big man. "Here you go."

"Thank you, Cincinnatus," Daniel leaned his rifle up against the door, sat down and took a drink of the hot beverage. Mingo remained standing, then pacing like a cat.

"I'm sorry, Daniel, but I am going. I feel that we are wasting time-time which Songbird and Ken-tah-teh do not have. You can try and catch up with me when you are rested."

"Mingo, I think what we need to do first is get some horses so we can make up for the time lost already. But I also think we need to be careful, and stay off of the main trail once we get close to Salem. Let's go back to Boonesborough and get the horses and then-"

"Fine, Daniel," the Cherokee said. "You and Cincinnatus go get the horses. I am not going anywhere but toward Salem. As I said we are wasting valuable time."

"Daniel stood and took the last swallow of coffee from the cup. "All right, Mingo. I remember a time when my children were taken prisoner. I've a pretty good idea how you're feelin' inside. Cincinnatus, why don't you go back to the fort and get three horses. You should be able to catch up with us at Findley Lake in a couple of hours. There we will figure out our next move and still have a couple of hours to travel before sunset. Is that agreeable with you, Mingo?"

The Cherokee man shook his head yes. He found it hard to speak when thinking of his family in danger.

"Yes, Daniel, that sounds like a good plan as long as we are heading toward Salem."

The three men went outside together. Daniel and Mingo went in the direction of Salem, while Cincinnatus headed back to Boonesborough.

"See you in a couple of hours," the older man shouted.

Daniel waved to him, and then stepped up his pace to catch up with Mingo.

At the south end of Findley Lake, a grove of pine trees shaded the large rock that Daniel and Mingo sat on. They were waiting for Cincinnatus to finish watering the horses. The tavern-keeper made good time and had arrived at the lake only half an hour after his two friends.

The sun was on its downward meeting with the horizon. Sunset was only an hour away. Mirror-like ripples of light began to dance on the surface of the water.

"Maybe we should camp here for the night and get a fresh start in the morning." Daniel suggested. Cincinnatus nodded, "Maybe? Been a long day."

But Mingo refused. "You two do what you must. I appreciate you coming with me this far. But I have not seen my wife and son in almost two days. And the last time I saw them-," The Cherokee man swallowed hard, as he faced his two friends. "The last time I saw them, there was a rifle pointed at their heads. I was helpless. I could do nothing to stop those men from taking them from me!" He swung his rifle over his shoulder and took the reins of one of the three horses in his hand. "And I will not sleep until I have them back safe in my arms."

Daniel walked to his friend's side, "We'll get them back, Mingo. Together, we'll get them back. You ready, Cincinnatus?"

"I don't think so, Daniel," the older man answered. "Mingo, take a look."

Mingo turned his eyes down the trail and could not believe what he saw.

Coming toward them were four horses, three of them had riders. Songbird and Ken-tah-teh were on Apple Jack. Beside them, John Murray was riding his mare, Blue Belle. He had in his hand a lead rope and at the end of the rope a very frisky brown and white pinto colt. Bringing up the rear, Robley Davenport was riding a bay, and leading another bay. Daniel caught Mingo's rifle just in time as the Cherokee let it fall and raced to his family. Songbird slid off Jack carrying their son. She and Ken-tah-teh met Mingo halfway. His arms surrounded them, fearful to let go.

"I was afraid I would never see you again," Mingo said and kissed her. He took their baby in his arms. "Hello, Ken-tah-teh?"

"Papa," Ken-tah-teh said and wrapped his arms around Mingo's neck. He leaned back and pointed to the colt now standing at the side of Murray's Arabian mare. "Tah-teh, pony." Then he pointed to the tall man still sitting on the mare. "Grandfodder."

Mingo hugged his family tight then walked over to his father who was now standing by his mare. The spirited colt was fighting with the lead rope that was around his neck. The baby in Mingo's arms pointed again.  
"Grandfodder."

John Murray put out his hand to him. "Hello, Ken-tah-teh, hello Mingo."

"Father, I thank you for paying the ransom for Songbird and Ken-tah-teh. And I promise I will pay you back every bit of it."

"Mingo, there is no need for that," John Murray started to explain, but the Cherokee man continued.  
"No, Father, I mean it I will pay it back to you somehow."

The tall English nobleman was having a time with the colt. "Settle yourself, Cherokee, and go stand with your mother." He fastened the lead rope to Blue Belle's saddle and let the mare calm down her offspring.  
"Cherokee?" Mingo asked. "The colt's name is Cherokee?"

"A fitting name I thought," his father answered. "Blue Belle got acquainted with an Indian pony one time while I was away on business for the Crown."

That made Mingo smile knowing how his father prided himself on the Arabian bloodlines of his horses. Murray put his hand on Ken-tah-teh's cheek. "Mingo," he started to say.

"Father, I insist," Mingo said, when Songbird came up to them.

"Mingo, your father, John, saved us. Please let him explain how."

An air of both relief and stubbornness showed on the Cherokee's face. Cincinnatus' voice broke the ice. He came up beside them, "Robley, why don't you climb down off that horse. Dan'l, why don't you get a big fire goin'? Sun's settin' and it'll be dark soon. The animals are tired, we're all tired. I say we make camp here for the night. Lots of fish over there in Findley Lake, and I'll bet me and Robley can catch enough for a good supper."

Daniel slapped their friend on the back. "I like it when you take over, Cincinnatus. I'll go get some firewood and maybe find some greens to go with all them fish you and Robley, is it?-all them fish you and Robley are going to catch."

The other Englishman had done as Cincinnatus suggested and dismounted. With one hand he held the reins of the two bay horses, the other he put out to Daniel.

"This here's Robley Davenport, Dan'l. Lord Dunsmore's right hand man. Robley, this here's Daniel Boone."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Robley," The big man said and heartily shook his hand.

"And I yours, sir," Robley replied. Then he looked at Mingo and offered his hand again. "Hello, Master Murray, it is good to see you. It has been a long time."

The words 'Master Murray' sent a rush of youthful memories into Mingo's head. Robley Davenport had been a friend to the young and frightened Indian boy who had been placed in a strange and large English household, and not by his choice. Mingo grasped the outstretched hand.

"Robley, it is good to see you too," Mingo said. No one said anything for a long minute.

"Well Dan'l," Cincinnatus said, "You go get those greens and fire wood. Me and Robley will water the horses while we're catchin' supper. And we'll let Mingo catch up with his family."

Songbird took Mingo's arm and John Murray's, "Come we will prepare a place to set up camp. Mingo you are hurt and I would ask you to sit and let me check your wounds. John will explain to you what happened and how we got here safe. And Ken-tah-teh, I think would just like to sit in Papa's lap."

By the time the sun had been set for an hour, a warm, crackling fire lit the darkness. Several big rainbow trout were roasting over the embers, water cress and wild onions were rinsed and ready to eat with the fish. The horses were fed, watered, and tethered nearby. Songbird had tended to Mingo's wounds, changing the bandages, and had made a big pot of tea. Ken-tah-teh was asleep in his Papa's lap. While waiting for the fish to cook, they all rested around the fire, listening as John Murray explained how he and Robley came to deliver Songbird and Ken-tah-teh home safely.

"Cincinnatus, that day in your tavern I recognized John and Cameron Eliot as the two brothers who, twenty years ago, broke into my stables and stole one of my prize Arabian stallions, and two very expensive riding saddles. At the time that it happened I was not able to prove that they were the guilty parties." He went on to explain that evidence had later been found to convict them of the crimes. But they were nowhere to be found. Even so, they still remained wanted men. "That is why I had Robley go back to Salem before me. I knew there was a troop of British soldiers camped near the city. I gave him a signed order to bring six soldiers, meet me at Porto Bello and we would come back and arrest the Eliots in the name of the Crown. Little did I know that they were on their way to Salem to find me, and that they were holding Songbird and Ken-tah-teh hostage. Imagine their surprise when the tables were turned on them."

Cincinnatus got up and checked on the fish, turning them so they would cook on the other side. "How in tarnation did you get the drop on them? Traveling with six of those fancy red-coated soldier boys of yours, I'd think you'd stick out like a sore thumb on the trail."

Daniel nudged him with his boot, "Cincinnatus, be nice. We have Lord Dunsmore, to thank for bringing Songbird and Ken-tah-teh back to Mingo."

"Oh, Dan'l, the Governor knows I'm joshin' him." The tavern-keeper said.

"That's quite all right, Mr. Boone," John Murray added. "Remember, Cincinnatus, when I told you that Robley, here, my right-hand man, as you called him, was as good a horseman and tracker as any of you colonists. While he was out scouting the trail ahead of us ,he came upon the Eliot brothers and their two co-horts. He reported back to me that they had an Indian woman and baby with them. And it looked to him as though they were not traveling with these men by choice." Murray poured himself some more tea. "To make a long story short, we did get the drop on them. At no time were Songbird and Ken-tah-teh in danger. Robley made certain of that. He was able to get close enough that when my soldiers and I made our move, he had already disarmed the man who was guarding them."

"Sounds like you're a good man to have around, Robley," Cincinnatus said.

"I can attest to that, Cincinnatus," Mingo said. "He was always a good friend to me when I was growing up in London." The Cherokee man patted Ken-tah-teh's back. The baby was still asleep on his father's lap. "I cannot thank you both enough for bringing my family back to me safe and sound. I will be forever in your debt."

John Murray looked at his son, daughter-in-law, and grandson. "There is no debt, Mingo. Not when it is family, there is no debt."

Mingo smiled and nodded to his father and then to the man sitting next to his father, Robely Davenport. Daniel slapped his knees and stood up. "I don't know 'bout anybody else, but I'm hungry and those trout are smellin' mighty good. I'm goin' to have me a couple and then join Ken-tah-teh there."

Mingo motioned to Robley and John Murray, "You had better get ahead of him, Gentlemen, or there will be no fish left for anyone else."

But there was plenty for all and in a matter of half an hour; everyone was full and ready for a good night's sleep. With his son in his arms, and Songbird close beside him, Mingo looked to the sky and thanked the Great Spirit in a silent prayer.

The next morning the first to wake up were the two youngest members of the group. Cherokee's little whinnies were heard by Ken-tah-teh who was sleeping on the ground between his mother and father. He sat up.

"Pony, Papa. Pony, Mama."

The frisky colt was ready for his morning meal and so was the baby boy. Mingo and Songbird sat up together. "Come Ken-tah-teh," Songbird whispered. "We will go down to the lake and wash and you can eat too." They looked over and could see the colt eating some grass with his mother, Blue Belle, close beside. "I need to wash too," Mingo said. "And I'll get some water. Daniel will be ready for some of my coffee when he wakes."

By the time they got back to the campfire, the sun was just peeking over the horizon. The other three men were up; Cincinnatus had some biscuits cooking. They had let the Indian family have some time alone down by the lake. Mingo handed Daniel the water for coffee, then quickly took it back. "Better let me make the coffee, Daniel." Cincinnatus winked at John Murray and Robley.

"Father, what happened to those four men?" Mingo asked.

"They have been dealt with, Mingo. Many years of prison will be their prize. The Eliot brothers for the crime of horse stealing, and all four of them for kidnapping and blackmail. One does not get away with crimes against a citizen of the Crown. They will be gone for a very, very long time." John Murray explained.

All the while the adults were eating, Ken-tah-teh, with his tummy full was not interested in any of Cincinnatus' biscuits. His eyes were on all those horses tethered nearby.

Po-nee, Papa, po-nee,"

"All right, Ken-tah-teh, let's go look at all those ponies," Mingo took his son in his arms and started to walk to the horses. Blue Belle, John Murray's Arabian mare turned her head when she saw them coming.

"Blue," the baby called out. Mingo laughed, "Good boy, you remembered her name."

Back at the campfire Robley stood after finishing a biscuit and a cup of coffee and addressed John Murray.  
"Sir, shall I saddle the horses and prepare for return journey to Salem?"

"Yes, Robley, and while you do I will have another of Cincinnatus' biscuits to finish my coffee. How about you, Mr. Boone? Won't you join me?" John Murray said.

"Don't mind if I do, Governor," the big man said. And Songbird, you just rest up and let Cincinnatus do the cookin' today."

"Thank you, Daniel," Mingo's beautiful wife said. She sat by her father-in-law and they both watched Mingo and Ken-tah-teh with the horses.

The mare took a step toward them. Her colt, Cherokee, was not so welcoming. He was still not happy with the rope around his neck, which tethered him to tree. The little brown and white pinto shook his head, whinnied, and moved closer to his mother's side.

"Easy, Cherokee, we just want to say hello," Mingo's deep, mellow voice gentled the colt a little. He stopped pulling at the rope, and stood quietly by his mother as Mingo and Ken-tah-teh got closer.

"Hello Blue Belle," Mingo rubbed her nose. Ken-tah-teh did the same, but his eyes were on the little pony. "You've a fine son there, Blue, just like my Ken-tah-teh," Mingo poked the baby in his tummy. Ken-tah-teh laughed. "Hello, Cherokee," Mingo slowly put out his hand. The colt sniffed at it, but would not let the Cherokee man pet his nose.  
"You do have a very fine son, Master Murray, I mean," Robley Davenport stuttered as he came up behind Mingo and the baby. The Cherokee put his arm around the Englishman.

"It is just Mingo now, Robley. Although I know I will probably always be Master Murray to you, won't I?"

"Yes, Master, I mean, Mingo. It is good to finally see you happy. You have a charming family. And I now can see how beautiful this land is; and why you missed it so when you were in London."

The baby put his hand out to the Englishman and he took it, "Hello, Ken-tah-teh."

"So you two have already met?" Mingo asked.

"Oh yes," Robley said. "Your Grandfather introduced us, didn't he, Ken-tah-teh?"

But the baby's attention had already gone back to the ponies.

"He has your love for horses, Mingo. That is certainly evident. Well, I had better get the horses saddled, packed, and ready for the ride back to Salem."

Mingo started to step away from the mare so Robley could saddle her.

"Oh no, my instructions were to saddle the bays only, not Blue Belle and her colt. I'd best get to it straight away. My best wishes to you, Master Murray, Mingo, for a long and happy life with many children."

Mingo shook Robley's hand firmly, "Thank you, Robley, for everything."

The Englishman nodded and went over to the other horses.

"He is a good man to have around," John Murray said, joining his son and grandson.

"Yes he is, and so are you, father. You saved Songbird and Ken-tah-teh's lives," Mingo told him.

"Ahhh, you would have done the same, Mingo," Murray stammered. "Now then, Ken-tah-teh, I think Blue Belle remembers you. And doesn't she have a handsome young son there, just like you." The tall Englishman went over to the tree and untied the lead rope to the colt. He came back, took Ken-tah-teh's hand and placed the rope in it. Then he looked at Mingo.

"I want you and Songbird to have Blue Belle and I want Ken-tah-teh to have Cherokee. A boy who loves horses like he does should have his own. And to raise him from a colt is the best way. Ken-tah-teh and Cherokee will grow up together and make this land, this Promised Land of yours, a good place to live and raise a family."

"No Father, we can't take Blue, she is your mare," Mingo said, but Murray stopped him.

I can't see her making another long boat voyage back to England, and I know the little one wouldn't stand for it," Murray laughed. "No, Mingo, please, I insist. I know they will both be well taken care of. And when I come back for a visit one day, Ken-tah-teh, I expect to see you and Cherokee riding up to meet me." He looked over at Robley who was finishing with the horses. "Are we ready to leave yet, Robley?"

"Yes Sir, we are," Davenport answered and mounted one of the bays.

By that time Songbird, Daniel, and Cincinnatus had joined them. The Governor General shook their hands, "Gentlemen, always a pleasure and an adventure when we meet. I hope to be back one day when this conflict is settled for a mug or two of Blue Thunder."

"Make that a jug or two, Governor," Daniel said.

"And I'll buy!" Cincinnatus said.

That brought a roar from all the men. John Murray then took Songbird's hand and kissed it. "Please come back and visit. You are welcome anytime." She told him.

"I will, I promise," he said.

He took Mingo's hand to shake it, but the Cherokee grabbed his forearm, and made it a forearm to forearm handshake. "Thank you, father, for my family."

The Englishman nodded but was unable to answer. Mingo understood.

"Tell Grandfather, thank you and goodbye, Ken-tah-teh. Tell him we will take Blue Belle and Cherokee home and take good care of them."

"Grandfodder, bye," the baby said. Then he pointed to the horses. "Blue and po-nee home."

John Murray couldn't help but laugh. The English gentleman put his hand on the baby's cheek, "Good bye, Ken-tah-teh, take care of your Mama and Papa. Grandfodder loves you." Then he quickly got to his bay, mounted, and he and Robley left, waving as they rode out of site.

For a few moments the only sound to be heard was the gentle lapping of waves from Findley Lake kissing the lakeshore.

"Well now," Daniel's voice broke the silence. "We'd best get saddled up and get back to Boonesborough. We got so many horses to choose from, I don't know which one to ride. But I'll say one thing, looky there, Tah-teh's finally got his own pony and a fine pony he is too."

"Yes he certainly is," Mingo agreed and looked down the trail to catch one more glance of the riders, but they were gone. "Thank you, father." He whispered. Then he put his arm around Songbird and squeezed his family tight.

"Let's go home," he said.

"Home, Po-nee." Ken-tah-teh repeated, and shook the lead rope still in his hand.

** Epilogue**

July in Kentucky can be hot, and this July was no different. The sun burned orange in the faded blue sky. It had been three months since the kidnapping ordeal. Both Ken-tah-teh and Cherokee were growing like weeds. The pony was settling down and getting used to his new owners, still too small to be ridden, he did recognize the sound of the baby's voice whenever Ken-tah-teh and Mingo came to feed him.

Today had been another birthday celebration of sorts. Mingo did not really know the exact day of his birth, but he did know he was born in mid-summer. And for Israel and Jemima, Daniel's children, who wanted their Cherokee friend to have a birthday, he agreed to let them celebrate his day of birth in the white man's month of July. And they usually chose to celebrate it around the 9th or 10 day of the month of July.

Today was that day. A small celebration at the lodge of their Indian friends, the Boone's brought over one of Mingo's favorites, Rebecca's apple pie. The group was sitting around the outside fire ring. There was no fire needed this day, but it was a good place for them to enjoy together the celebration. Rebecca and Jemima brought out two big, golden brown apple pies. The Cherokee rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

"Look at those pies, Ken-tah-teh," Mingo said to his little son who was standing, leaning on his father's knee.  
"But it ain't a birthday cake!" Israel argued. "Whoever heard of a birthday pie?!"

"Israel, be quiet," his sister, Jemima told him. "It's Mingo's birthday, and Mingo gets to have his favorite. Besides you love Ma's apple pie."

"I know, I was just tryin' to keep with tra, tra," the blonde haired boy struggled.

"Tradition?" Mingo said.

"Yeah, tradition. We learned about tradition in school last year."

"Well, Israel, how about we make it a tradition that on my day of birth celebration we have your mother's delicious apple pie?" Mingo tussled the boy's blonde locks.

"All right, Mingo," Israel agreed.

After they all had enjoyed a piece of apple pie, or two pieces in Daniel and Mingo's case, Israel looked at Songbird and Rebecca.

"Now Ma? Now Songbird? Now the surprise?" The little boy's voice raised an octave.

Songbird smiled, "All right, Israel. You go guard the door to the lodge and keep Mingo out," she grinned at her husband. "Come with Mama, Ken-tah-teh, so we can get Papa's surprise." The baby ran to her and walked with her inside their lodge.

Mingo looked at the Boones, first Rebecca, then Jemima, then Daniel.

"What is going on here?" he asked.

"It's a sur-prise, Mingo," Daniel answered.

After a few moments, the guard at the door whose name happened to be Israel Boone shouted, "Are you ready, Mingo, for your surprise?"

"I am ready, Israel," The Cherokee man replied.

Israel opened the door, and out came Ken-tah-teh wearing a pair of blue woolen trousers, with a red stripe down the side, identical to Mingo's, as well as identical moccasins to Mingo's.

"Go show Papa your new trousers and shoes, Ken-tah-teh," Songbird told him.

The baby ran over to Mingo's open arms, and onto his lap.

"Ken-tah-teh, look at you, just like Papa's," he said slapping his knee.

"Tah-teh like Papa," the baby said.

"Do you like the surprise, Mingo?" Israel asked. "Your Pa sent the cloth; Ma and Jemima sewed 'em. Me and Pa tanned the leather and Songbird sewed the moccasins. Do you like it, Mingo?" he asked again.

"I sure do like it, Israel. It's the best surprise ever, well almost the best." He patted Ken-tah-teh's bare tummy and kissed his head. "Thank you all very much. Next we'll have to get you a vest like Papa's."

Songbird looked at the baby, "Oh do not worry, Papa, we made him one, but of course he will not wear it in this heat." Mingo laughed as did the Boones who were just getting ready to leave.

"Well Mingo," Daniel said. "Another year older."

Mingo stood up beside his tall friend, "'Tis true, Daniel, but remember I am still and always will be younger than you."

"Very funny, Mingo. Very funny. Let's go, Boone family, time for us to head back to our cabin."

"Thank you all again," Mingo said. He and his family waved goodbye to them until they were out of sight.  
"That was nice of your father to send the material for Ken-tah-teh's trousers. I hope he comes for a visit before his grandson grows out of them," Songbird told Mingo.

"He promised he would come and a promise is a promise, isn't that right, Ken-tah-teh?" Mingo picked up the baby. "Just like you and Israel are the promise of a peaceful future between the Indian and the white man."

Songbird came close to her husband, put her arm around his waist and laid her head on his chest. "Ken-tah-teh and I have another surprise for you, Papa. Don't we, Ken-tah-teh?"

"You do? And what is that?" Mingo put his arm around her and squeezed her tight to him.

Songbird looked up into his eyes, "Do you remember that day on the trail when you told me you wondered if ever there would be another little one sleeping with us in our bed? And I promised you there would be one day."

Mingo's face lit up with joy, "I remember," he said.

"A promise is a promise."

Mingo kissed her again and then kissed his son.

He looked to the sky and held his family tight to him.

"Thank you, Great Spirit, for all that you have promised for your people. And for all the promises you have given me."

**The End**


End file.
